<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Hurt Me Once by tigerlilycorinne</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22402813">Hurt Me Once</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigerlilycorinne/pseuds/tigerlilycorinne'>tigerlilycorinne</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Christine is a good character, Christine is not a bitch, Don't worry, F/F, Fluff, Getting Together, Jeremy Heere Loves Michael Mell, Jeremy is the comfort, Jeremy takes a bit of time to get there, M/M, Michael is hurt, Michael knows he's in love, Mutual Pining, Post canon, Post-Squip, Post-Squip Jeremy Heere, RickJake, Slow Burn, boyf-riends, but he isn't very good at it, he's good, original main character, they're horny teenagers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 11:14:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>25,170</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22402813</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigerlilycorinne/pseuds/tigerlilycorinne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The SQUIP has happened. Michael saved the day, Jeremy got the girl, everything is perfect... right? Only Jeremy may or may not have realized his feelings for his friend are more than friendly. And Michael... well Michael's trying not to feel to broken up over his crush of many years finally getting a girlfriend. Michael may not be happy for himself, but he's happy for Jeremy.</p>
<p>But is Jeremy happy? Their friendship isn't what it used to be, and Jeremy is steadily beginning to notice that nothing matters to him quite the way Michael does. Can he let go of Christine and reach for Michael before Michael is out of reach?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Christine Canigula/Jenna Rolan, Jake Dillinger/Rich Goranski, Jeremy Heere/Michael Mell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>79</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>176</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Jeremy</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not fair.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The thought pops into existence in his mind from absolutely nowhere as Jeremy watches Michael through the window.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michael doesn’t care what people think; well, okay, Jeremy does. Michael can’t be pissed at Jeremy for caring. Not fair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Also, Michael doesn’t hook up with random girls. This is uncalled for. Not fair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Like, what kind of cat-costumed hoe makes out with a loser in the bathroom of someone else’s house?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michael’s eyes are red and puffy, most likely because of what just happened between them in the bathroom, and Jeremy feels like shit for saying things already. Things like </span>
  <em>
    <span>loser</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Get out of my way, loser.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seriously,” Chloe scoffs next to him, a beer in the hand that isn’t on his shoulder, “Who has a window that’s in the shower?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I- yeah, I know right?” Jeremy laughs weakly, wondering why he can’t look away. Something about the way Michael’s lips move.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jealous?” Chloe teases, and Jeremy starts. Why is she right? Because he knows she is, but now that he’s identified this feeling as jealousy, he can’t figure out what he’s jealous over. “She’s pretty hot.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Says the girl who just made out with me.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>But oddly enough, Jeremy’s watching his best friend, not the girl. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No she’s not</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he wants to scream, </span>
  <em>
    <span>she’s ugly and he’s drunk anyways so it doesn’t count!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then it hits him like a flash: he’s jealous of the girl. He likes Michael. He wants to kiss his best friend. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What the hell?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he just shattered everything between them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Get out of my way, loser.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Michael probably hates him now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s go inside,” Jeremy mutters and as the alcohol fades, the SQUIP turns back on, and Jeremy forgets all about Michael.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Rich</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rich fights his way through throngs of drunk, partying people, his hands shaking almost as much as his voice. “I need mountain dew red!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At those words, his SQUIP shoots painful shocks down his spine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Getting rid of me won’t change the truth</em>
  </b>
  <b>, </b>
  <span>seductive female voice purrs. God, Rich hates it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No. No, he doesn’t. He loves it. Totally. Completely. Loves. That. Girl’s. Voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yeah, who’s he kidding. He likes Jake’s voice way more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>I can block your bisexuality</em>
  </b>
  <b>, </b>
  <span>the voice in his head adds, </span>
  <b>
    <em>but I cannot change it.</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, I know, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Rich growls out loud, still moving towards the drinks table even though he knows he won’t find the discontinued drink anywhere here. “Get the fuck out of my head.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The voice doesn’t stop. </span>
  <b>
    <em>You’ll always be queer. It’s never going to change, Rich. It’ll always be this way. </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The SQUIP makes a clicking noise and suddenly, punch in hand (definitely spiked- Rich tosses it), Rich stumbles, feeling as if a part of him, disappeared. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What way? I’m always going to be what?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Rich knows what it means. The terrible ache for- </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> that he can’t have (what was it again?) and the hate he feels for himself (why again?) that makes his wrists hideous with scars he draws with anything nearby.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why stop there?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He thinks suddenly, as the SQUIP says- again- a bunch of should-be convincing shit as to why he should spread the SQUIPS to more people. The SQUIP hasn’t brought him any joy. If he stops it here, he can prevent an epidemic of teens trapped in their heads.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Plus, he’ll put a permanent end to his own pain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rich grabs a bottle of alcohol- he doesn’t one what kind- and shoves his way into the corner of the living room where he knows his best friend keeps his newspapers. He borrows someone’s lighter.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Jake</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This isn’t working. This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> working.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jake has always been a cool kid. Always. He has the swagger, the laid-back personality. He doesn’t need a SQUIP for that- he needs it for Rich. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But the SQUIP told him his next move already: hang out with Canigula. Bring on the crazy party, invite Rich, get cozy… </span>
  <em>
    <span>it’s not working.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rich has a tough shell. Half of it’s himself and half of it’s the SQUIP he’s had for years, but Jake fell for SQUIPless Rich back in freshman year and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> hasn’t gotten anywhere at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wait. Shit. Jake sniffs the air. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is that smoke only from weed?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He asks his SQUIP in thought, but he gets no response, because he’s a little drunk. Only a little.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The screaming morphs from excited and rowdy to fearful, coming from the corner of Jake’s living room where Rich went a minute ago. Not that he’s watching or anything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jake is well aware that he’s in no state of mind to be fighting fires, so he punches 9-1-1 in his phone and shoves into Canigula’s hands, making a break from the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Canigula, sober, makes it to the lawn quickly, but Jake stops, a circle of fire in the corner flickering to reveal-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cammo pants. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rich. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God- oh fuck- fcukpleaseno-” Jake lunges back towards the fire, trying to remember how the hell to put one out. The fire between them is huge; there’s no way he can just smother it. “Rich? Rich is that you?” Jake is screaming at the top of his lungs, much louder than the crackle of the fire, but Rich doesn’t seem to hear him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jake dives into the blazing fire.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rich is unresponsive as if he can’t see Jake at all, but Jake grabs Rich anyway, pulling him and wishing track did more to help his upper body strength as he stumbles back out of the flames, a blank-faced Rich over his shoulders and clothes blazing fire.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He passes out somewhere on his way to the front door.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Michael</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michael is so glad it’s a high school party; if it wasn’t, he’d be scrambling for something to distract him, anything to think about that didn’t have to do with the conversation Michael just had with the boy he loves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a high school party, though, so he’s stoned, zoned, should quit- “Hey is that weed? I want a hit!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soon the girl he shares a joint with turns the indirect kiss into a direct one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michael doesn’t mind; he welcomes the distraction. He doesn’t even mind they’re kissing in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bathtub</span>
  </em>
  <span>, for God’s sake, until he realizes the smoke pouring through the space between the door and the floor isn’t from their joint. His mind is hazy, he stands up, the world is wandering over his eyes and playing tag with reality.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michael tries to open the door and screams- the door handle is burning hot. Like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>hot</span>
  </em>
  <span> hot, truly burning. There a dark brand beginning to form on his palm, the pain shooting sharply through his mind and lighting up the reasoning in his thoughts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Quickly, he yanks the high girl to her feet, blonde ponytail swinging as she yanks off her tail and wraps it around the door handle, pulling the ends to open the door. This smart while high? Not a bad emergency make-out choice. Gay though he is, Michael repects the girl much more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Together, they stumble out of the burning house.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Off</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jeremy and Michael are trying so hard to fall back into their old groove, but there's something different between them, scars that haven't yet healed and wounds that still sting.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Jeremy</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy likes Christine. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I do. </span>
  </em>
  <span>A lot.</span>
  <em>
    <span> I do, I do, I doooo. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He also doesn’t like Michael.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No wait, that sounded wrong- he likes Michael, but not like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Not like Christine. Not like… not like walking into the cafeteria and holding hands. Not like practicing lines and maybe kissing if Jeremy thinks she can handle it. No- not </span>
  <em>
    <span>can handle it</span>
  </em>
  <span>- if Jeremy wants to, which he does, he just doesn’t… get around to it all that much, because they run out of time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not because he says he has plans with Michael, wishing he actually did, just so he can leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So how’s class?” Michael asks, taking a bite of this awesome lunch he brought, leftovers from his moms’ cooking. He has them everyday, and Jeremy loves going to his place for dinner, too, because his moms can whip up something delicious out of absolutely anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wrote Christine a letter telling her how I feel…” Jeremy starts, wincing as he remembered the terrible, flat sounding praise he scribbled on a post-it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s progress!” Micha sounds genuinely excited, which only makes Jeremy more unhappy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was more of a note, really,” he mumbles, sliding into their table of used-to-be-two. They sit with Jenna and Christine now, mostly because Jeremy and Christine are dating and Jenna and Christine have become a package deal. Jeremy misses when it was just them, Player One and Player Two.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s still progress,” Michael says encouragingly, patting Jeremy on the shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is the moment where Jeremy keeps thinking about: usually, Michael would kind of initiated their handshake, but today- and everyday since the SQUIP, Michael hasn’t yet done it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jeremy,</span>
  </em>
  <span> of course, has never initiated the handshake because he’s damn sure he doesn’t deserve it, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span> if it doesn’t sting when Michael doesn’t shake because Michael never holds grudges. He’s not mean and petty the way Jeremy is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael isn’t like Jeremy: Michael is </span>
  <em>
    <span>proud</span>
  </em>
  <span> of who he is. And he used to share that pride with Jeremy. Now he doesn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Jeremy has no fucking idea how to fix it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“AOTD at my place?” he mentions hopefully to his best friend, who’s feeling more like just a friend nowadays.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah sure, bro,” Michael grins up at him from his slouch over his food and Jeremy’s stomach does this weird little flip that feels nice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jere-” Michael’s lips say Jeremy’s nickname and Jeremy stops staring at them. He wonders if maybe they’re finally going to talk about what’s between them, but Micha just nods his head to something behind Jeremy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Jeremy,” Christine smiles, sliding in close. She steals a bite of his food, he steals a bit of hers, and the moment is broken by </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> high school love. The boy and the girl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The best friend’s smile changes from the sun to artificial lights. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Michael</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy’s been shooting Michael confused looks for days now. Michael can’t blame Jeremy either, because he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’s been acting distant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael is trying. He really is. He’s trying to get over it but something always feels wrong, off, unaddressed and avoided.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael knew he’d never get Jeremy, but he thought their friendship was for forever and now the world has yet to settle itself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he’s trying. Trying to get back to normal, because that’s all he wants, and Jeremy’s good at it. Jeremy’s acting like nothing happened and everything is good and Michael is trying so hard to copy but his own damn self won’t get with the program.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Micha?” Jeremy’s eyes dance as he holds out a limp-looking fry to Michael, who takes it with confusion. “He’s disgusted, see? I told you.” Jeremy shoots a look back at Christine, who’s his girlfriend. Jeremy’s, that is. Jeremy has a girlfriend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine laughs. “I don’t blame you, your food is way superior. Asian food, am I right?” Michael accepts her fistbump with a smile. “I have this aunt and like every time- I swear, </span>
  <em>
    <span>every time</span>
  </em>
  <span>- we go to her house- not that we go often- she makes this amazing stir fry. And we’re not talking all that family tradition with strict recipes or whatever, you know? This is the real deal, where she makes it, like, with what she has and she’s got it every time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I mean, why would I steal </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> food?” Michael agrees, still holding the french fry. “Why have the micropenis when you could have Chinese sausage?” he wiggles his eyebrows wildly, grinning. Jenna cackles, and Christine giggles. Jeremy turns a wild shade of red. “Nah, it’s fine. I’m sure your fries are rad, I just don’t want to crush your couple time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael kicks back, and Jeremy and Christine turn right back to messing with each other, stealing food. Jeremy shoots Michael another curious look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s true; Michael doesn’t want to interrupt. He’s not jealous, at least not in the way movies show jealous lovers. He doesn’t hate Christine or want their relationship to fail, because they deserve each other and they’re happy. That’s more than anyone could ask for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, he’s excited to play AOTD with Jeremy. It’ll be the first time they’re really alone since… well.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>~~~</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy flops down onto a beanbag. “Apocalypse of the damned!!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Level ten!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Finally!” they both exclaim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their synchronization ends there- Jeremy abandons his job to help Michael when he doesn’t need it, and the plan flops. The next time, Michael gets a terrible twist in his gut, wondering if maybe Jeremy is going to take more than he needs and leave not enough for Michael. He jumps to get them himself, leaving them unguarded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They try again and again, but it’s clear that somehow, they’ve lost their touch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael feels off. Failing has only pushed the point that Michael is, yeah, a failure. Michael never minded being one, but now he’s wondering if </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jeremy </span>
  </em>
  <span>minds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he feels terrible for even thinking about it that way, because Jeremy’s still here, isn’t he?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy throws his hands up in outrage as he gets bitten again, and Michael laughs out loud as Jeremy glares at the screen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bro, we gotta adjust this strategy,” Jeremy groans, head in his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael nods. He can’t help thinking their strategy is fine- it’s their vibe. They talk strategy for nearly half an hour, but they still lose.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Jeremy</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bro,” Jeremy says nervously, his fingers tapping against the back of his phone, “I can’t. I can’t do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s going on a date today, but Christine… Christine thought it would be cute for them to go do something more official than just chilling out on a couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude,” Michael grins, “You’re gonna be fine, okay? It’s gonna be rad, and you’ll get to say your first time was in a fucking apple orchard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy splutters, feeling his face go red. Completely. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wish it was you,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thinks suddenly, and he forces the thought down- way way down where it will never come back again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some ridiculous part of him wants Michael to be jealous, which is stupid, because Michael is straight. Plus, Jeremy is straight and has a girlfriend. Plus, Jeremy’s an ass. Michael wouldn’t want him anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, I respect her too much.” Which is true too. Christine is great in her own head-in-the-clouds way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s rad,” Michael agrees, and Jeremy’s stomach sinks. So much for jealousy (which, again, was idiotic). “You two are meant to be.” Michael winks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy tries to tell himself his blush is because of the phrase </span>
  <em>
    <span>meant to be</span>
  </em>
  <span> in reference to Christine. It’s because of the wink. “So, anyway. After. Do you want to play more? Because I thought about it last night-” </span>
  <em>
    <span>kind of. I thought about </span>
  </em>
  <span>you. “And I have beginnings of an </span>
  <em>
    <span>epic</span>
  </em>
  <span> plan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dope,” Micha accepts, “I got some pot too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds great,” Jeremy’s scared he sounds </span>
  <em>
    <span>too excited</span>
  </em>
  <span> but he can’t help leaning into every moment with Michael. He doesn’t know why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He might. Maybe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Michael doesn’t make an attempt to continue the conversation and Jeremy feels the smile on his face flicker. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” he says. He doesn’t get up quite yet. One more moment of those eyes…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well I should-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Jeremy’s screen goes blank. The whole room feels so </span>
  <em>
    <span>alone</span>
  </em>
  <span> without Michael’s contagious smile and full laugh. Without the black curls and the light brown eyes and the tiny scar below his lower lip from where Jeremy accidentally stabbed him with scissors when they were six.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fine, okay, Jeremy does know why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He totally knows why.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Michael</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael smiles softly to himself, bittersweet as he scrolls through instagram- Christine and Jeremy’s faces pressed close so they both fit in the frame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next one is the two sharing icecream, Christine winking- she’s the one taking the picture- and Jeremy looking like a deer caught in headlights. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re so perfect, it’s like they were written in the stars. Michael just wishes he could rewrite them. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Knock, knock, knock, knock.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Open!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy opens the door to the top of the stairs, peering down into Michael’s basement and grinning when he sees Michael.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael shoves his phone in his pocket and shoots Jeremy a peace sign. He assumed it </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jeremy because Jeremy doesn’t knock. Not with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You knocked,” he says stupidly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy pauses. “Well, I.” Puts his hands in his pockets. “Yeah.” God, they’re falling apart right before Michael’s eyes and he’s going to be alone. Again.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s okay,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he assures himself, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll be fine.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“So how’d it go?” Michael genuinely wants to know. He gets to live through Jeremy- or maybe Christine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’d what go?” Oh. Michael should’ve known better than to assume Jeremy’d tell him about it… but they’ve always told each other everything. Before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re date? I mean, you don’t gotta talk about it, if you know…” Michael smirks suggestively and laughs when Jeremy’s face flushes crimson. Jeremy doesn’t say anything for a second, so Michael tosses him a remote, trying not to let the sting show on his face. “C’mon. Let’s play.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jeremy slipping away again. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe it wasn’t the SQUIP- maybe, SQUIP or not, Jeremy was always better at, well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>life</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe Jeremy drifting away because Michael isn’t and will never be enough, and this has always been inevitable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They form a new plan, but defeat hangs between them, another wall. They’re are multiplying by the minute, and Michael has no idea how to stop building them.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Wake</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Richjake</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm publishing late, apologies!! My wifi crashed yesterday.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Rich</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>The lights against his eyes shine dimly, and for the first time in the week since he got here, he wakes without a headache or drugs making him seem half an echo away from the rest of the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nurses in blue scurry around, handing him water and helping him sit up as the world clears and white hospital room walls come into focus, allowing Rich to think about what the hell happened for the first time since… whatever it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah. That. The fire. He burned something… newspapers, trying to end the SQUIP. And himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rich expected to be dead. He wanted to be. The nurses tell him he was rescued from Jake’s house… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jake’s house.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, he can’t think of anything anymore. Jake, Jake, Jake, Jake. Is he okay?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck, I burned down his </span>
  </em>
  <span>house</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The nurses leave the room, and Rich scans the empty room to find-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jake,” he croaks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake is watching him silently. His skin is blotchy in some places- Rich now notices he does too- and has casts on both legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rich,” Jakes’ voice sounds a little too hollow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rich isn’t sure why- they’re friends, right? Jake is his friend, that much he can remember, though he has a feeling there’s something he </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> remember, and, well, he can’t remember what that is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He does notice something else though- Jake is really cute- really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> cute. And then- </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s not new is it</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Jake seems to take pity on his confusion. “You set a fire in my house, but you’re okay- well, you’re mostly okay. And they removed our SQUIPs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rich remembers now. “Someone pulled me out, huh?” He runs his eyes over his burned arms, trying not to cry. “Oh my gosh, I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> bi.” He hasn’t forgotten. He hasn’t changed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake seems really thrown off by this. “I- you’re-?” Jake swallows. “Yeah, someone pulled you out.” His voice is heavy, his eyes unreadable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rich winces. “Sorry about the house,” he offers lamely. Jake doesn’t even smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Jake</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>They both know the house isn’t a big deal; his parents are so rich, they’ve got another only a couple blocks over. But. Rich doesn’t seem to remember what </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> a big deal, at least to Jake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake’s biggest reward for pulling Rich out is that Rich is alive, of course. But. He’d hope for Rich to </span>
  <em>
    <span>remember.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Rich is bi, though, that’s something to cling to. That’s a hope. Jake should feel elated, but honestly he feels a bit blank, like he’s holding off the emotion subconsciously before it bowls him over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can feel that dam beginning to crack. Not good, not good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the legs dude. God, I’m sorry, like seriously, my bad. I don’t know what I was thinking- I- I don’t I didn’t think about you </span>
  <em>
    <span>at all</span>
  </em>
  <span>, literally. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me.” Rich rambles on, and all Jake’s careful walls crumble as he begins to cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck! Jake- I’m sorry, what did I say? Oh fuck. It’s- I didn’t mean I didn’t- It’s not that I don’t care about you, I just didn’t think- god, I don’t fucking know, let’s talk about something. Or- or we don’t have to talk if you don’t want to talk to me- god, I’m an asshole-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake laughs through his tears, his heart twisting painfully in his chest. He doesn’t miss the irony of his elation- effusive, non-SQUIPed Rich is back!- coming from such painful words. “It’s not you,” he gasps out, scrubbing furiously at his tears. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It is, it’s you, it’s always been you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m terrible,” Rich whispers in a small voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Jake shakes his head, gulping a lungful of air, “Keep talking.” He smiles waveringly. “Let’s talk about something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rich shifts, wincing, and Jake wants to reach out and smooth over the wrinkle between Rich’s brows. “What did you tell your SQUIP to do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seriously? This is not the small talk Jake was expecting. “I… to get me the person I like?” he says weakly. Oh, the irony.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rich nods, a small smile on his lips. “Dude, I bet she already likes you. You were the coolest guy in school before you even </span>
  <em>
    <span>got</span>
  </em>
  <span> the SQUIP. Why didn’t you just ask her out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake wants to go back to crying. Anything but this. Rich’s hair is singed, but he’s still as beautiful as that day in freshman year when he turned and the light caught in the red stripe in his hair and stole Jake’s breath from his body. “Too shy?” he tries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rich laughs, and Jake aches to bury his flushed face in the pillows. Still, a popular kid learns to hide emotions with ease. “Well, you don’t need that tic-tac, man. Best of luck! I’ll be your best man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ha fucking ha.</span>
  </em>
  <span> God must have a really twisted sense of humor. “What was yours?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rich’s smile fades, his hands twisting in the blankets. When he speaks, his voice comes out bitter as black coffee. “Didn’t want to be bi,” he says. That’s all he says. No ramble or smiles, no change of subject or peppy second comment.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Didn’t want to be bi.</span>
  </em>
  <span> As a gay guy, it feels like a slap in the face, though he can understand. As a boy in love, it feels like his heart has been tossed into a meat grinder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t be-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Changed,” Rich replies grimly. “Yeah, I know. Tried to off myself.” Rich won’t meet his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Suddenly, Jake starts to see the appeal of not waking up.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Stupid</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Jeremy</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that a plan?” Jeremy gestures, walking through the plan and tries not to notice the way Michael’s smile looks like it’s an animal that doesn’t want to come out of its cage, and Michael is dragging it out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The black remote shines at Jeremy’s feet, and Jeremy tosses it to Michael the way they do. “Here bro, the game is on!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael’s hand shoots out to catch it, the remote slapping into his hand- and Michael lets out a sharp gasp. It’s gone as soon as if came, and Jeremy knows Michael didn’t mean to make a sound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>suspicious- the way Michael denies it instantly and won’t look Jeremy in the eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Jeremy starts nervously. His heart won’t stop backing away as if scared to go further, but dammit, this is his friend. This is the boy his heart performs flips for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael’s posture is ramrod straight, his eyes never leaving the screen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Michael.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy sighs, killing his player. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Michael.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That wasn’t the plan,” Michael mumbles, not moving his eyes from the screen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy has to move in front of the screen- he knows he’s got every reason to not be trusted, but best friends talk to each other. He turns off the TV, ignoring the way Michael throws his hands up in incredulous frustration. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, what the hell?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I see your hand?” Jeremy dives right in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael pulls it to his chest as if burned. “Uh,” he laughs higher than normal. “Why, you gonna read my palm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy knows he doesn’t deserve Michael’s trust. Or his friendship. Or his anything, really. He doesn’t deserve to crush on someone so much </span>
  <em>
    <span>better</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Knowing doesn’t make not being trusted any less painful.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Michael</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please?” Jeremy’s voice cracks comically, but nothing else in the situation is funny.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael doesn’t want Jeremy to feel bad, but it’s more than that. He just wants to move on. No one needs to linger on a painful past when you can throw yourself into a happier future. (Except Michael’s still working on that part.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Michael says, shoving his hand into his pocket, “Pot, my friend?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Michael,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Jeremy says, as if </span>
  <em>
    <span>Michael</span>
  </em>
  <span> is the only word in his vocabulary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Jeremy.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why can’t I see your hand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you want to?” Michael counters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy scowls. “Because- because you won’t let me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never know you love it ‘till you lose it.” Michael looks up and winks, amazed to find a blush on Jere’s pale cheeks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stop it, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thinks, </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop hoping, loser.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off, Michael, are you hiding something or not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You fuck off,” Michael avoids the second part, wishing he were anywhere else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The burn mark is a physical scar that Jeremy left behind. It’s saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>hey, look, you hurt me, see?</span>
  </em>
  <span> In big, bold letters. It’s taking </span>
  <em>
    <span>we can be normal</span>
  </em>
  <span> and stabbing it to pieces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Are</span>
  </em>
  <span> you hiding something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t trust me?” Michael teases playfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy’s frustrated breath hits the back of Michael’s neck and now is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not the time</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be thinking about whipping around, faces inches apart, and asking why the hell he </span>
  <em>
    <span>cares</span>
  </em>
  <span> so much…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do trust you,” Jeremy says softly, and Michael’s stomach flips upside down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was a joke,” he grins, “I was teasing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you trust me?” Jeremy’s smile is back, but it’s a nervous one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bro, it’s a sad day in high school when you can’t trust your best friend.” Now, Michael does turn fully to look at Jeremy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, of course.” He does. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Absolutely. </span>
  </em>
  <span>So why do the words taste bitter on his lips?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy’s shoulder nudges his own, and Michael feels his heart skip a beat. “So. The hand…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael pulls himself away, angling back towards the screens. “Nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See, doesn’t seem like you trust me.” The cheery notes of their conversation have vanished, no longer even attempting to drown out the walls and shields. And. Distrust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t push it.” Michael lets the sharp edge show in his tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy groans. “Why is it so hard to talk to you these days?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s pushing it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No- fuck off- you just did it again. It’s like you’re avoiding saying anything that actually means something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want me to say?” Michael asks desperately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, just be normal!” Jeremy’s eyes cast about as if searching for remnants of what used to be them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fucking trying!” Michael’s scar says </span>
  <em>
    <span>not normal</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That’s why it’s still in his damn pocket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy growls out, “Not very hard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael crosses his arms, wishing Jeremy didn’t have the height advantage as he stands up. “Are you kidding me right now? After all that shit you expect me to just </span>
  <em>
    <span>be normal?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” That wasn’t fair. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Michael</span>
  </em>
  <span> expects </span>
  <em>
    <span>himself</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be normal; he can’t condemn Jeremy for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, Jeremy draws back. “Than talk to me so we can </span>
  <em>
    <span>get over it</span>
  </em>
  <span> already!” Jeremy yells. Then he pales- “Sorry- I didn’t mean it like-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going.” Michael hisses through the lump in his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy’s laugh is harsh with disbelief. “It’s your own fucking house!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t fucking talk to me!” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael doesn’t understand anything he’s thinking or feeling right now. He needs a hot second to sort it out. Maybe more than a second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he needs a break.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine!” Jeremy hollers up the stairs after him, the anger in his voice nipping at Michael’s heels.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine!” Michael shouts back. He slams the door behind him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jeremy</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Michael’s being stupid, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jeremy tells himself, curling up tightly on his own couch.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Why couldn’t he just show me his hand?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy stares glumly at his phone, playing a boring game absentmindedly, and missing the rush of togetherness that a two-player game gives him. He can answer that question for himself, really. Michael doesn’t trust him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The worst part is that Michael definitely meant it when he said he was trying. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Try harder,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jeremy wants to yell. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His avatar falls into a lake. It can swim. Jeremy just lets it drown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t deserve it, and he knows it. And it isn’t fair to ask Michael to </span>
  <em>
    <span>get over it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but Jeremy wants is so badly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jeremy?” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck off.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The last thing Jeremy needs is to start talking to his dad- again- about wearing pants. Today is groceries day and his dad has been wearing nothing but underwear for the past few days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Going to- are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t look fine.” Jeremy’s dad squirms awkwardly and Jeremy blinks. Since when does his dad care?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t trust my word?” Jeremy freezes as soon as he asks, and Jeremy’s dad only shrugs, oblivious to Jeremy’s internal crisis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy hurries out before he gets a response, scrambling into bed with the urge to hug a pillow. Maybe cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get out of my head,” he whispers to Michael, knowing full well it’s his own fault for thinking so much about the boy in the red sweatshirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck Michael. Michael and his fucking smile and his fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck off</span>
  </em>
  <span> and his fucking hand and his </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s pushing it</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Fuck him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wouldn’t you like to,</span>
  </em>
  <span> a part of his brain giggles shyly and Jeremy growls, flinging his pillow across the room. “No, I would not,” he mutters. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not fair. He’s not being fair.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Michael’s being stupid.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jeremy thinks it again and again, just like the SQUIP taught him, until he believes it. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Michael’s more trouble than he’s worth</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Jeremy insists.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Part of him knows that Michael is worth everything. Anything. The world, the universe. That Jeremy is turning a blind eye to his problems because he doesn’t know how to solve them. That Jeremy cares about Michael more than he’d like to admit, in ways he’d never </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> admit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ignores those parts of him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Because they’re wrong about me,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he tells himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No,</span>
  </em>
  <span> they reply, </span>
  <em>
    <span>because they scare you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Michael</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Michael curses himself, </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid, stupid, stupid.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He could’ve asked for more time to figure out how he felt about- well- everything. About their friendship and their new obstacles. Instead he lashed out and Jeremy lashed out right back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael was being a dick, but it still hurt. And part of Michael hoped Jeremy would stick it out. Deal with the worst parts of Michael because Michael is worth it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He keeps forgetting: he isn’t. Not to Jeremy. Michael loves the way he is, he does. He also knows that people like different things, and when Michael thinks he’s enough for himself, he’s not holding himself to Jeremy’s standards. He sees that now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he’s not going to be a different Michael. Jeremy can go suck a dick. (Michael’s volunteering.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy is worth almost everything, but in all honesty, Michael would rather be his own person than someone else’s dream guy.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nope.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The pep talk isn’t working. He flops onto the sofa. Maybe he should try to be a better person. Like, not-yelling-at-your-best-friend better.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ping!</span>
  </em>
  <span> There’s this guy that sits at the next table over, and sometimes Michael walks to him- Julio.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><strong>Julio</strong>: It came! It came! It came!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael’s eyes widen, already feeling a bit better- this is a perfect distraction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><strong>Michael</strong>: Can i play w u</span>
</p><p>
  <span><strong>Julio</strong>: sure dude 4 player</span>
</p><p>
  <span><strong>Michael</strong>: rad</span>
</p><p>
  <span><strong>Julio</strong>: lit</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael might have to start making new friends, because he gets the sinking feeling Jeremy doesn’t want to be his friend anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He really hopes he’s wrong.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Spill</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Christine</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spill.” Jenna’s voice scratches through the phone relatively raspy because the girl talks so much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well I…” With anyone else, Christine would have more than enough words, but Jenna seems to mess with her brain and pull out the part that thinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh come on. This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jeremy Heere</span>
  </em>
  <span> we’re talking about. Hasn’t he had a crush on you since the beginning of time?” Jenna laughs lightly and the sound bounces around inside of Christine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine bounces on her toes to let out the giddy energy, earning odd glances from other people nearby. “He’s sweet. Very awkward, kind of distracted, but it’s cute. Endearing.” It’s not, really. Christine likes confidence and talk over shy and silent but Jenna might spread the word and she likes Jeremy enough to respect him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh, okay.” Jenna’s voice sounds… odd. Maybe it’s just the phone. “So, details?” Jenna seems both hopeful and somehow wary, and suddenly Christine wants to hop through the phone and give her nosy friend a hug, ask her what’s wrong, get her to spill on her own life for once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m at the park,” she says instead, “I’ll spill when you get here.” With a smile that she can’t seem to squash, she practically bounces over to a bench when Jenna says she’ll be there in a few minutes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sees Jenna every day at school, just not outside of it. And. She wants to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She catches sight of Jenna before Jenna’s eyes find hers, and she can feel her heart going double time. “Hey,” she calls out, waving her arms excitedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenna responds with one of those little waves people do, holding up her hand and waving her fingers and her painted nails flash in the sunlight.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love it.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Christine doesn’t know what </span>
  <em>
    <span>it</span>
  </em>
  <span> is, but seeing Jenna has already made her smile wider than she did at any point on her date with Jeremy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Jenna</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine Canigula is something else entirely. A bit out of this world, like part of her is in heaven and is sending messages down to the rest of her. A bit like a piece of heaven came down to earth and decided to sprinkle it with cherry blossoms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bit like someone up high sent down the cutest bunny and forbid you to pet it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This close and this far, the inch between their thighs a canyon as Jenna settles herself on the bench and prepares for the worst kind of torture. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sweet, kind, awkward, what else is new?” Jenna flashes her smile- the trademark gossip girl, easy and cheap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine’s smile is more subdued. “Off the record?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have a record,” Jenna’s always eager for news, especially on someone as big as Jeremy is now, but she’s not planning on messing with her friend- and crush’s- privacy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jenna!” Christine huffs, and gives Jenna a light shove on the shoulder, the casual skin on skin setting a new heartbeat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t! I promise, so spill.” Jenna pretends to zip her lips, scrunching them and pouts them when Christine’s eyes linger longer on them than they need to. “Zero, zip, nada.” The last thing she needs is hearing </span>
  <em>
    <span>everyone else</span>
  </em>
  <span> talking about this beautiful girl with someone else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay…” Christine ducks her head- adorably bashful- and then pops it up like she’s just gotten that message from the piece of her in heaven. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yesss?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dull.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Holy shit.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jenna’s heart freezes in her chest like the moment it beats it’ll shatter this new information to dust. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s just… not my type. He’s great, but… as a friend, I guess, and god- why am I telling this to you- I always feel like he’s thinking about something else, you know, like he’s not really engaged or whatever. I mean-” Christine is on a roll, and Jenna is loving every minute of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not interested,” Jenna says disbelievingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine shakes her head, glossy black hair swooping over her shoulder. “I mean, not really, no, but I feel like I should give him a chance, you know? Because he’s… nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No, don’t give him a chance.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jenna’s never been the best person, and it’s easy for people to peg her as the jealous type. She prefers the word </span>
  <em>
    <span>attached.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But Christine deserves an unbiased opinion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could. If you think you might start liking him later.” Even Jenna can tell how badly she disguises what she wants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine shoots her a loot she can’t read, one way more complex than the ones Jenna has catalogued for Christine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Christine says slowly (she never speaks slowly- </span>
  <em>
    <span>what is going on?</span>
  </em>
  <span>) Jenna’s organs- tight, short breathing, heart beating too fast- suggest she’s high and hallucinating, but that isn’t it. “I don’t think I will.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you again for reading! Sorry this one was really rushed, I've got a ton of schoolwork.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Not Stupid</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sprinkling main course: Rich/Jake fluff-comfort, side dishes: Boyfs angst, Christine/Jenna goodness.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Jake</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>“That guy,” Jake points to a table where three people sit, wrinkling his brow in confusion. “The one next to the one with the black hair. Yea-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rich points. “Tall one. Jeremy Heere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Usually they have four people there, I think. The other guy is shorter, glasses, kind of a loser…” Jake scans the cafeteria as they make their way to the table with Jeremy. They’ve never sat with that guy, but Jake knows Christine and Jenna, and for their first day back to school after getting out of the hospital, he’d rather play it safe than sit with his popular friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s still got broken legs. Rich shoots Jake a questioning glance, the brown eyes catching in the light. “So this other guy is the one who brought the Mountain Dew, and the other is the one who saved y’all, and these chicks here- oh hey, I know them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake laughs at Rich’s eyes light up and he’s grinning. It’s so nice to see the real Rich back, bubbly and delightful.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake eyes Jeremy, who seems to be glaring at his food. “Yo. You good?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” the lanky boy growls, sounding anything but fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake opens his mouth to ask, but Christine widens her eyes at him and shakes her head. Rich punches his shoulder and jerks a chin to the corner, where the boy in the red sweater is eating on his own, looking miserable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rich turns his eyes to Jeremy. “Heere, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup.” Jeremy shovels a forkful of dry rice into his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for stopping, you know…” Rich says. “I tried but it didn’t turn out to well…” Jake shifts as Rich looks at him, feeling heat rise in his cheeks the longer Rich gazes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” he murmurs for the trillionth time.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Thank Michael,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Jake thinks he hears Jeremy say, but when he asks, Jeremy just shakes his head. “Nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What the hell is going on between those two?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake watches Rich swallow a bite, the muscles in his throat flexing, and lets his eyes roam over Rich’s arms as Rich chats up the two girls, realizing Jeremy doesn’t want to talk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rich’s burn marks marr the smooth skin in places, though he’s mostly healed, and Rich still wears muscle tees and shirts with the sleeves cut off- he doesn’t seem to mind the markings, but Jake wishes he could run his fingers over the skin and pull the burns from them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then the tee shifts and Jake catches a glimpse of something else right below the cut of the sleeve. Purple, blueish, bruise-like. And when Rich reaches over to playfully tweak Jenna’s nose, the light meets a few more bruises as the hem of Rich’s shirt inches higher.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Rich</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenna squeaks and Christine’s eyes light up at the sound. Rich laughs despite the way it makes his ribs ache, and grins when Christine tucks the loose strand of Jenna’s hair behind her ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They should be a couple if they’re not already. Rich turns to ask Jake whether they are, catching Jake watching him contemplatively and… worriedly? Rich’s pulse jumps at the idea. He discovered that Jake is </span>
  <em>
    <span>really hot</span>
  </em>
  <span> and also that it actually wasn’t new information: he’s known it for a while and… forgot, or something. A while meaning years, probably.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shut up, like anyone would actually like you.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Rich yanks his eyes away. That’s not new either- only some of the negative voices in his head were the SQUIP and really, most of them were just him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not feeling too good,” Jake winces, and Rich turns quickly, not knowing how to help and aching to help, “Help me to the nurse?” Jake glaces at Rich hopefully and Rich almost melts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, of course, of course, you got it!” He jumps to slip an arm around Jake’s slim waist, offering the other arm to pull Jake up. Jake slips shaking arms around Rich and Rich grabs Jake crutches, pushing one under each arm. He can hear Jake’s sharp breath in his ear, he can feel the muscles of Jake’s chest as he holds Jake’s tall body to him. When Jake is steady, Rich finds himself wishing he could just hold on forever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they get to a hallway, empty and quiet, Jake stops and Rich looks back, confused. Is Jake hurt?</span>
  <em>
    <span> Do I get to hold him again?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s with the bruises?” Jake asks finally.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, hell.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “You say it like it’s a style decision.” Rich shoves his hands in his pockets and looks away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, I-” Jake stutters. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stutters.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The great, popular Jake Dillinger. Rich blushes in spite of himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, you’re fine.” Rich shifts as the taller boy peers at him until finally he sighs. “My dad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake’s eyes widen, and his Adam’s apple bobs in his long throat. “Again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rich stares at his feet. “Not super happy about me- you know… being bi?” He says it like it’s a question, but if it is, he knows the answer to it is told clearly in the bruises under his shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake leans forwards, as if to be closer, and Rich stays put, trying desperately not to cry. He’s so great at pretending not to be hurting. They say laughter is the best medicine- especially for depression- but neither that nor the expensive pills Rich’s been prescribed have done anything yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d hug you, but, you know.” Jake does what looks like a shrug around his crutches, and Rich tried for a faltering smile. When it doesn’t really pull through, Jake bites his lip. “So are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> okay with being bi?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I tried to stop,” Rich mutters. “I- I mean, I was- I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> fine with it, but it’d be better for me it I…” He swipes at his eyes, which are prickling painfully. “It’s stupid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S’not stupid,” Jake says softly, his brow wrinkled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rich takes a deep breath. He owes this much to Jake. “Remember when I said I didn’t think about you at all?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake flinches and backs up. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rich bounces nervously on his toes. “Yeah. Well. Guess why.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you wanted to cut yourself off from me, so you had your SQUIP…” Jake’s eyes flit over the walls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- no! Definitely not.” Is that what he thinks? Fuck, Rich feels bad now. Really, Jake had so many friends, Rich thought Jake wouldn’t even notice, let alone care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stupid?” Jake’s lips pull up in a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rich shakes his head. “Not stupid. I didn’t- I should’ve said something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake nods to Rich. “You had a lot going on.” Jake eyes him nervously and Rich feels his heart racing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Is he really going to do this? Here? Now? Today?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because- because I like you.” he blurts. Jake’s eyes go wider than Rich has ever seen them and Rich plunges onwards before he loses his nerve. “A lot. So, I told the- it- you know- yeah. I told it I wanted to be straight so… I had it block you. I- fuck. I’m sorry. Stupid, I know-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake is grinning stupidly now, his eyes sparkling. “Not stupid.” He stands there for a moment in all his gorgeous glory. Rich is paralyzed, no words left to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake rolls his eyes. “Well? Get over here and kiss me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Swept away in a wave of </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything at once</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Rich does.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you again for reading, and stay safe! Please do not die of coronavirus! If you are sick, hide yourself away, don't go outside. Read yourself some fic. Have a nice cozy time to yourself, if you go out wear a mask. If you're in the mood to be a crackhead, apparently there's a coronavirus fandom... so... there's that.  But seriously I love you, stay safe.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. A Million Worlds Apart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which The Great Divide makes itself known and the dash between Boyf and Riends becomes very long.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's a day late, and I apologize. I try to publish on Sundays, but sometimes I hit Mondays instead.  (Or occasionally Saturdays.) (But let's be real, that's almost never.)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Jeremy</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy watches as the two fire-scarred boys leave the table. They’re a three-person group now, and he feels the empty space beside him like a missing limb, even after three days of not speaking. Even though Michael’s still at their old table- Jeremy’s the one that switched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or a missing organ. For example, his heart. He stabs the dry rice on his plate, missing the bites of Michael’s lunch he used to get. When they were together. </span>
  <em>
    <span>As friends.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dammit.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When Michael wasn’t being stupid,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jeremy reminds himself, but after only a day, that line had gone stale. After two, his anger was gone. Now, day three, he’s really just mad at himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And </span>
  <em>
    <span>Christ</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he misses Michael.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope Jake’s okay,” Christine sighs worriedly, and Jenna scowls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’ll be fine,” Jenna insists, “He didn’t even look hurt. Probably just wanted to get Rich alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still worried.” Jenna’s scowl doesn’t disappear. “What, jealous?” Jenna flushes at Christine’s teasing, and Jeremy tunes them out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael would have fried rice today. Or maybe that Filipino soup- Michael never had stir-fry in the middle of the week.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy’s eyes find Michael, who’s talking with some hispanic- looking guy, and shoves down a twisting snake of jealousy. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is that my replacement?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He hates the guy. He doesn’t know anything about him, but he </span>
  <em>
    <span>hates</span>
  </em>
  <span> him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He goes back to his food. What if he could get his own lunches like Micahel? He remembers this morning clearly.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Groceries,” his dad said, and Jeremy looked up in surprise because usually they lived off of Cup O’ Noodles for the second half of the week. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And he did a double take. “Dad, are you wearing </span>
  </em>
  <span>pants</span>
  <em>
    <span>?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His dad only winked. “Michael made me promise to be a better dad.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jeremy squeaked loudly. “Michael?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His dad laughed. “Someone’s gotta look out for you. I believe he said, </span>
  </em>
  <span>If I try harder to be his friend, you have to try harder to be his dad.</span>
  <em>
    <span> And he dragged me to the store and wouldn’t let me leave until I bought a pair of pants.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy sighs. Michael did that for him, because Michael is a great friend. A great </span>
  <em>
    <span>best</span>
  </em>
  <span> friend. A great person to hang out with, a great person to go to for weed or a pick-me-up, a great person at making the world shine brighter. A great person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Talk to him. God. Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>something.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Jeremy’s head snaps up to look at Jenna, who’s sharing a piece of spaghetti with Christine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- talk to who?” Jeremy asks weakly, his face flooding with color. “I don’t know who your talking about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenna scoffs. “No, of course not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The one you’ve been staring at for ten minutes,” Christine supplies helpfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy groans, but he can’t help one last glance at the soft smile that used to be for him. “I can’t. We haven’t talked for three days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not that long,” Jenna replies with an easy shrug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine shakes her head. “For them it’s like a million years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy nods. “Exactly- see- it’s like we’re a million worlds apart, and I don’t know how I would even start.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine actually giggles. “Oh, that’s so romantic, isn’t it?” Jenna responds with an arm around Christine, and Jeremy drops his head in his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t.” He looks over again. “Look, he’s made a new friend anyway. He doesn’t need me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine pins him with a look. “Maybe </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> need </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And anyway, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> or you </span>
  <em>
    <span>won’t?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Michael</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael’s eyes flit to the table where Jeremy sits. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Again.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He can’t stop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you even paying attention?” Julio asks. “If you wanna go sit with them, I really don’t mind.” Michael can tell he does mind, but he appreciates the offer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t,” he says. “I always sit here. They chose to sit there, so if I follow…”</span>
  <em>
    <span> If I follow, that’s just pathetic.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Julio snorts. “Their loss. Anyone ever tell you how cool you are? They don’t know what they’re missing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Michael thinks</span>
  <em>
    <span> Jeremy used to tell me that, every day.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He winces, looking away. “They know exactly what they’re missing,” he mumbles, “they just don’t want it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julio glares at the table. “They’re fucking stupid,” he says then. He nudges Michael. “Don’t let it get you down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael can’t help but smile. After years of being that voice for Jeremy, it’s nice to have someone be that voice for him. “You really think I’m cool?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The coolest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael grins. “You’re cool too. Cool Julio. Coolio.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julio laughs. “Michael… Michael…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael laughs too, feeble, but real. “No hope, I’ve tried.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julio scrunches up his face, still trying. “Rad-i-cal. M-i-chael. Ra...Ramical!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael groans. “That’s the worst thing I ever heard. I’m cringing so hard.” It’s the worst. He loves it. Jeremy would too… his eyes go back again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I managed almost five minutes,” Julio shrugs in defeat. “Not interested, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael shakes his head, ignoring the tear in his heart as he says the words. “Clearly not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julio draws back, eyebrows raised. “You never asked?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not that simple,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Michael wants to shout. “We’re not like that,” he says instead, “I can’t lose what we already have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Amigo-</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t really say that, do you?” Michael interrupts desperately. He wants to go back to being distracted. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please, leave it be. It hurts enough as it is.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not often,” Julio’s eyes dance. “Bro. This is what you have right now.” He gestures to Michael, the empty seat beside him, still empty just in case. The boy sitting at another table rather than taking the place that used to be his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael shrugs. “He’s happy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You deserve a better love life than </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’s happy</span>
  </em>
  <span>. At least get someone who appreciates how great you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael exhales, discouraged. “You?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m straight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the only other person who does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julio watches Jeremy talk to Jenna and Christine. “I’d say the only.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael drops his eyes to his fried rice. “Maybe.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you enjoyed it! I love making you suffer...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Perfect</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Just a bunch of sappy fluff, giving us all the f/f we deserve.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Jenna</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenna slips onto the bench to wait for Christine. Christine suggested they meet up at the bench to hang out, and they’ve done it about four times since the first meeting a week ago. Christine’s the only fun person to hang out with, although maybe she’s just raised the bar for everyone else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After all, Jeremy is </span>
  <em>
    <span>still </span>
  </em>
  <span>ignoring Micheal, seeming to not notice or understand the hurt looks Michael sends every time Jeremy sits at their new table. And Jeremy is such a joy kill when all he does is mope over the guy he refuses to talk to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Here it’s just her and Christine. Every time she thinks about it, she gets an onslaught of butterflies in her stomach, and she grins stupidly at nothing at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some guy that looks about three years older strolls up, eyeing Jenna like she’s a piece of pink candy. She pulls her jacket a little more closed over her chest. “Um, hi?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dude blinks. “Hey gorgeous, what’s your name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, Jenna regrets putting on a little more make-up and wearing more flattering clothes for Christine’s sake. “Jenna.”She crosses her arms tightly over her chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gemma, huh?” She doesn’t correct him. “Doesn’t suit you much. Sounds like a skinny gymnast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenna stands up. “Have a good day,” she mutters, not meaning a word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s he?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenna turns, her body awash with relief when she catches Christine’s eyes, smiling at the sound of her voice. “Perv,” she mutters, “commented on my weight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine’s eyes darken and she glares at the figure crossing the street. “Nothing wrong with your weight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenna just snorts, though she uncrosses her arms. “Uh-huh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The clip over Christine’s left ear flashes darkly in the sunlight. “Really, there isn’t. You’re a curvy girl. That’s fine!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenna watches the leaves rustle in the trees. “Everyone’s got an imperfection,” she sighs. She exercises all the time, just not in PE because she hates the way people watch her. It’s just her body type. She’s tried so many things. Just because she finally gave up doesn’t mean she’ll ever be happy about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jenna, you’re perfect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenna turns to stare at Christine, who’s biting her perfect lip and blushing at the ground, looking anxious. Her heart is going crazy, and she actually pinches herself discreetly. She needs a minute to process.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t just go around saying things like that, girl!” She laughs nervously. “You have a boyfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually,” Christine tucks a lock of hair behind her perfect little ear. “I was going to break up with him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Christine</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, Christine doesn’t ask Jenna not to spread it. She knows Jenna won’t, because gossiper or not, she doesn’t spill her friends’ secrets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Break up?” Jenna repeats, an odd note in her voice. She seems to recover quickly, though, the curious glint that Christine has come to love flickering in her eyes. “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine watches Jenna, who keeps tugging on her hair and rubbing her glossy lips together as if to make sure the lip gloss is even. When Jenna glances at her, Christine looks away quickly, her cheeks flushing. She’s been staring way too much lately, but none of that will matter after this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like someone else,” she confesses, watching Jenna’s eyes widen out of the corner of her eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone else,” Jenna repeats, and they both laugh nervously. “Sorry, I sound like an echo machine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. See, there’s this girl that I’d kinda be into- well, okay, actually, there’s this girl that I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>totally</span>
  </em>
  <span> into.” She doesn’t miss the tiny gasp Jenna lets out at Christine says </span>
  <em>
    <span>girl</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She better not be reading the signs wrong. Jenna </span>
  <em>
    <span>has </span>
  </em>
  <span>been flirting with her, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She watches Jenna carefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s got the most perfect body,” she begins pointedly, “and she’s super nosy but it’s really sweet, and she says no one actually hangs out with her except for the gossip but </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> hang out with her because I really, really like her-” Jenna looks over at her, </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally,</span>
  </em>
  <span> her eyes wide, and those glossy lips that Christine’s been wanting to kiss </span>
  <em>
    <span>forever</span>
  </em>
  <span> parted just slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine continues, breathless, and Jenna steps closer and closer, inch by inch like she’s afraid Christine will back away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And, um… lately we’ve been meeting at this bench-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenna leans down and kisses her, one hand finding Christine’s hand, and Christine winds their fingers together as Jenna sweeps the world around them away and all that’s left is the tiny part between Jenna’s lips and the sweet cherry lip gloss slipping against the press of Christine’s lips as Christine tilts her head just so and her heart a hummingbird in her chest, ready to fly out into the wide, open world, and-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenna pulls away, her breath close enough to dance in short gasps over Christine’s lips. “You should break up first,” she says breathlessly, and Christine steps away, her head spinning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can taste Jenna’s sweet gloss on her own lips, she can feel the slip of it now, when she rubs her lips together. She’s going to go absolutely insane until they can kiss again, and she’ll never want to do anything but kiss Jenna once she’s finally got her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, yeah.” They stare at each other for a moment. “Hug?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenna laughs. “Can you even wrap your arms around me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine grumbles, “shut up, I’m short.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenna opens her arms. “You’re perfect.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Stay safe, and read yourself some good isolated-together fics. I Heere they're booming now.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Best Friends and Girlfriends</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Yes, the Boyfs are back : )</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Michael</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>“So is he your boyfriend now or…?” Jeremy asks as Michael and Julio round a corner right into him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just wants to go home and </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>think about Jeremy or how absolutely stupid it is that Jeremy is asking if Julio is his </span>
  <em>
    <span>boyfriend</span>
  </em>
  <span> when all Michael has ever wanted is Jeremy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, just his best friend,” Julio replies smoothly while Michael splutters. He’s grateful for the support. “Though I wouldn’t say no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael’s eyes shoot to Julio. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I thought he said he was straight.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Julio shrugs and winks, and Michael- to his own horror- blushes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m </span>
  </em>
  <span>his best friend!” Jeremy exclaims, his voice high and very hurt. Michael winces, feeling torn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julio scoffs in disbelief. “You’re his best friend? Where have you been? How come you’ve never been introduced?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy drops his eyes and stares down the empty hallway as if searching it for an excuse. “Yeah- well, I… it’s just…” he licks his lips nervously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael feels like a guilty bystander, so he steps between them- Jeremy wide-eyed and defensive, Julio boiling with indignation on Michael’s behalf. “Hey, hey. Jeremy Heere, my… um.” He shoots a glance at Jeremy, but Jeremy’s busy glaring at Julio, and Michael can’t catch his eye. “This is Julio, who’s… uh-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This isn’t going well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” Jeremy says through gritted teeth. “Nice to meet you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julio crosses his arms. “I’d say the same, but you’re the reason Michael’s been miserable for weeks, so…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael flinches as Jeremy gives him a panicked look. Seriously? </span>
  <em>
    <span>As if you didn’t know.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Guys…” He shakes his head at Julio. “Be decent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julio uncrosses his arms immediately, slinging one arm around Michael. “Okay, okay. Hey, see you around, yeah?” He waves to Jeremy, who glares after them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as they’re out of earshot, Michael turns to Julio and Julio pulls his arm back. “What was that?” he asks suspiciously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julio shrugs. “Nothing like a good bit of jealousy to get the ball rolling, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time in a while, Michael smiles for real.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Jeremy</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>When Jeremy rounded that corner and saw Michael, he very nearly died. The full force of- well- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Michael</span>
  </em>
  <span> hit him </span>
  <em>
    <span>hard-</span>
  </em>
  <span> the somewhat curly, somewhat messy hair, the glasses, his skin shining like rich, creamy coffee, his eyes a deep, clear brown, the bow of his lips shooting an arrow straight into Jeremy’s heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that </span>
  <em>
    <span>other boy</span>
  </em>
  <span> was with him, and to Jeremy’s horror, this boy wasn’t hideous by any stretch of the imagination.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, glaring after the two, he couldn’t ignore the twist in his gut or the wild confliction dancing through him, tearing through like a hurricane and leaving devastation behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s a fucking bitch,</span>
  </em>
  <span> part of his mind screeches, but the other part continues to point out that he made Michael smile. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Smile.</span>
  </em>
  <span> But then that, too, is a bad thing because as great as it is that Michael is happy, Jeremy wants to be part of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why the face? If looks could kill, that boy would be lying on the ground right now.” Christine’s cheery voice comes from behind Jeremy, tinted with worry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we should break up,” Jeremy blurts out. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I mean-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For some reason, Christine is beaming. “I agree, I agree, I agree! Oh Jeremy, yes!” Jeremy freezes, dumbfounded, as Christine hugs him around the waist. “I’ve been meaning to, you know…” She ducks her head. “But I couldn’t- I just- I’m shy you know, but I actually like-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jenna,” Jeremy finishes, the beginnings of a smile messing with his glare. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, well,” Christine ducks her head again, her cheeks rosy red. “And you like Michael, anyone can see that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy splutters, his heart plummeting. His body goes cold. “Everyone?” he squeaks, his voice cracking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Except for Michael,” Christine amends, and Jeremy breathes out a sigh of relief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Christine,” he begins as Christine starts to walk away, “I don’t know what to do.” He watches helplessly as the figures in the distance wave goodbye to each other, feeling the coming of their own secret handshake like a ticking time bomb.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine looks back at him. “Don’t ignore him, for one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy licks his lips, feeling his breath coming short. “That’s not- I don’t think I do like him, I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god, you totally do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No I- I think- I don’t know what to do, I think I love him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine’s eyes widen, but she takes it in stride, seemingly oblivious to the way Jeremy trembles with the words. “Not just a heavy crush.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Jeremy groans miserably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine smiles. “Well I’m here if you need anything,” she says, wiggling her phone. Then she gives Jeremy another one of her pointed looks. “I wish you the best of luck on </span>
  <em>
    <span>talking to him</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>~~~</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>“Talk to him,” Christine insists, pushing Jeremy down the hallway insistently. “Talk, talk, talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eight days of not talking, except for the one run-in in the hallway with Michael and… Julio. Julio, that fucking idiot who probably is hugging Michael goodbye- unless they’re going home together- </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy braces his feet against the floor, petulantly resisting every step. “I don’t want to talk to Michael.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Scaredy-cat,” Christine scoffs with a terrible air of superiority.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy shakes his head wildly. “No- I just- I don’t know what to say, I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Michael, I’m in love with you. Dearest, darling Michael, will you go out with me. Michael, my love, I’m truly and deeply sorry for being absolutely stupid for a whole week.” Christine chatters on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy curses, trying to pull his arm out of Christine’s shockingly strong grip and failing miserably. “Eight days,” he corrects before he can stop himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine sighs, sounding pleased. “Yes, well, you would be counting, wouldn’t you? Look- we’re at his locker in a minute, use that time to think of something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fear washes over Jeremy’s entire body. He can see the red sweater he wants to bury his face in, the metal door of the open locker that obscures the face he was the unerring desire to pepper with kisses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Christine,” he tries desperately, “I don’t want to talk to Michael, oka-’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The metal door of the locker snaps shut crisply, revealing a gorgeously flushed Michael who narrows his eyes at Jeremy. “Okay,” Michael says. “Then don’t.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Michael</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael knew something was up the minute Jake sauntered up and struck up a conversation about the weather, of all things. He’d been having his normal, miserable day of staring at Jeremy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then the day got worse because Jake kept talking and talking and Micheal just wanted to leave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Jake let slip that Jeremy had to </span>
  <em>
    <span>authorize</span>
  </em>
  <span> the optic nerve blocking- </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> Michael nearly started crying. Jeremy had </span>
  <em>
    <span>chosen</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Jake just </span>
  <em>
    <span>left.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Stranding Michael just like-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to talk to Michael, oka-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael slammed the locker door shut, the rollercoaster halting to a stop- the whole damn world halting to a stop as beautiful, awkward, blue-eyed, </span>
  <em>
    <span>taken</span>
  </em>
  <span>, messy haired, wide-eyed, cruel Jeremy stumbled gracelessly towards him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Michael seethes bitterly, “then don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t take it anymore, he can’t. The ups and downs. The plummets and the agonizing climbs, only to be dropped mercilessly down again in a rollercoaster so fast and brutal that he has to close his eyes against the world because reality might rip tears from his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every time he takes his heart up, and it’s nearly ripped from him when he goes back down. And some day it will be. He’s never given up before, but he is now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Michael can leave, though, Jeremy’s pale, thin hand darts out and snags the red sleeve of Michael’s sweater, and despite himself, Michael freezes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, wait.” That voice. Thin and smooth like flawless glass, the cracks sparkling like crystals. “I do- I mean, I- lets talk, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Warily, Michael does, trying to construct some kind of wall around his heart. It’s a pretty shit wall, mostly because he’s never built one before. He’s never had to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy shifts as if searching for a clue of a helpful face, but it’s just them now. “I think we should talk about- well- about the SQUIPs,” he says the last word meekly, as one might say </span>
  <em>
    <span>you-know-who</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “The important stuff, or something. So we can… so we can…” Michael can tell Jeremy’s looking for a more considerate way to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>move on</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heal from it,” he suggests evenly, feeling like an overshot commercial for therapy. “Move past it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Jeremy agrees quickly, “yeah, that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael feels the rollercoaster slowly begin its climb, the slow movement that builds your anticipation. “Okay,” he agrees cautiously, “What do we talk about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy draws back, his eyebrows drawn together in a frustratingly hopeless expression. “Fuck, I don’t know, I didn’t volunteer to talk to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said you wanted to,” Michael points out, equally hopeless. The cars falter and the rollercoaster reaches the point where you cannot help but believe it’s nothing but your own will that keeps it inching upwards- a second of not wanting will have it shooting back down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy’s expression twists, so wildly conflicted that Michael can’t get a read simply because there’s too much going on. “It’s not- I’m just bad at talking.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not to me.” Michael can’t help thinking, </span>
  <em>
    <span>at least not before.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Jake says you blocked me. Your SQUIP. But you authorized it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy takes another step back, as if inching away from a man with a knife. “Maybe not the important stuff, maybe just the normal stuff until we’re ready.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the rollercoaster shoots down, top speed, wind rushing and Michael blinks back tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We already tried that,” he argues, “It just fucked with my head.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>And my heart.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy crosses his arms defensively. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not a man with a knife, just an overeager ex-best friend he doesn’t actually want to talk to.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael has taken way too many steps forward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Figure out what the fuck you want from me, Jeremy,” he growls. Maybe he needs to take a step back. His throat closes over the tears, but he manages to finish. “Talk to me when you know what that is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The problem with rollercoasters, you see, is while you yearn for the thrill and the joy of soaring through the air, you inevitably end up at the bottom again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Jeremy</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s lost count of how many chances he’s blown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every lunch he could have eaten with Michael, every day he spends ignoring Michael, the day he ran into Michael in the hall, the day he turned on Optic Nerve Blocking, the day he yelled at Michael for his desperate attempts at normal, the day Michael told him to take the SQUIP out, the day he got the SQUIP…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How many days ignoring the way his heart tightened when Michael walked into the room? How many nights trying to tell himself the black hair in his dreams was Christine?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How many trips, around, around… twists, and turns, and ultimately the bottom again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t count how many times he’s walked away from Michael, but his heart twists anyway when he sees the back of Michael’s red sweatshirt. The boy in his dreams, the boy </span>
  <em>
    <span>of</span>
  </em>
  <span> his dreams walks away for the very first time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Jeremy yells as soon as the doors close behind Michael. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Jeremy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking moron</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The worst part is that he knows it’s his fault, utterly and completely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wants to run after Michael and beg him for a do-over. He wants to grab Michael’s wrist and spin him into a kiss, a mindblowing, I-can’t-even-tell-you-how-much-I-want-you kiss, he wants to pull off the sweatshirt and hold the shorter boy in his arms, he wants to open that hand and look at it knowing whatever it is, Michael trusts him enough to show him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wants he wants he wants he wants. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> what he wants from Michael, but he’s too cowardly to say it. Too afraid to reach out and take the hand that’s being offered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Too hopelessly terrified to step off the rollercoaster and enter the real world until the beautiful boy has left the amusement park all together.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Love you guys so much!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Couples' Time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Our two other couples have their moments.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Rich</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>This kiss is as sweet as their first one, but deeper. Not just lips. Tongue, teeth, longing. Jake’s fingers leaving his hair to creep up his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they pull away, Rich barely has enough air to think. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake smirks at him, and Rich sighs in contentment and lets Jake pull him closer. “Was starting to wonder when you’d open your mouth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rich wraps his arms around Jake’s neck, the warm skin pressing against his own. “I was kinda afraid to, I guess, because-” he halts, laughing nervously. “I’ve imagined it so many times, you know, but I never imagined stopping, so what if, like, I can’t stop?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake grins wider, pulling Rich closer. They’re sitting side by side on Jake’s couch, homework forgotten on the coffee table. “I wouldn’t mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rich blushes at the low roll of Jake’s voice, the insecurity in him washing away for a moment as Jake holds his waist in firm hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake’s fingers send fire down Rich’s spine as they move over his shoulder blades and return to the edge of Rich’s shirt. Rich doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he just uses them to tug up Jake’s shirt until Jake lets him take it off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake pauses and Rich freezes, terrified. Too far? He’s never done it with a guy before. He’s only ever </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> wanted Jake. “You really imagined-?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rich is so relieved, he laughs and kisses Jake until he’s out of breath. “You have no idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grinning, Jake’s hands shift so one is on the small of Rich’s back and one’s buried in Rich’s hair. “You act like you’re the only one with an imagination,” he laughs softly in Rich’s ear, the warm breath ghosting over Rich’s skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hell</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it feels incredible. Rich can’t help letting out a few embarrassing sounds as Jake leans them both over and Rich feels the pillows of Jake’s couch press against his back as he allows himself to be lowered. He misses Jake’s old living room, but he’s hoping the memories made in the new one will be better than video games and talking about girls he’s not actually into.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Jake’s hands catch at Rich’s shirt, however, Rich can’t stop the plummeting of his heart and the cold that spreads to his toes. He stops the hands with his own without a thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Jake pulls his hands back immediately, eyes frightened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rich looks away, although with Jake over him like that, there isn’t really an away to look. “It’s not you,” he mumbles, “But I- what exactly did you imagine?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Jake</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake blinks, trying to figure out why…? “I can show you,” he offers easily, nuzzling Rich’s jaw and smiling when Rich squirms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not-” Rich swallows and Jake can’t help tracking the movement. “What was I like?” His voice is tight with forced casualty and Jake curses himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not nearly as good as in reality.” Jake winks and Rich flushes a deep red. “Seriously. Rich. I want </span>
  <em>
    <span>you,</span>
  </em>
  <span> not…” he scrambles for the words. “I don’t want… </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> because of how hot you are, I want it because I want to- to- I want it because it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow Rich gets it, even though Jake is 90% sure he’s terrible at articulating his feelings, and Jake’s heart leaps when Rich raises his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How could Rich ever believe he isn’t enough?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake pulls at Rich’s shirt. “But also you’re really hot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rich’s voice comes out breathy and light. “Shut up.” He’s letting Jake continue now, but he doesn’t quite look as if he believes Jake truly wants him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Jake murmurs against Rich’s neck, wrapping Rich in his arms and holding him close. “Do you remember my SQUIP goal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rich’s brow wrinkles and the smaller boy in Jake’s arms turns his head a little, as if to stare at the ceiling above Jake. “You said the person you like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm,” agrees Jake. He looks up to meet the darkened brown eyes, grabbing Rich’s hand. “That would be you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M-me?” Rich’s hands, warm and strong, slide into Jake’s hair as Jake moves to reclaim those perfect, perfect lips with his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Two years, Rich,” he says against Rich’s lips, “Two fucking years. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I want this</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rich’s smile could put the sun to shame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rich leans up to catch Jake’s lips. “Me too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <b>Jenna</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine looks like the human embodiment of a cupcake. Jenna loves it. Her smile is like pure light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So.” Jenna doesn’t know what to say when you see your girlfriend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine jumps onto the bench, peering down at Jenna. “So?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are we doing?” Jenna asks lamely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really don’t care.” Christine smiles, sliding down to sit beside her and lacing their fingers together. The spaces between their palms tingle and Jenna swears she can feel lightning there, like magic at her fingertips where their skin touches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t?” Jenna stares at their laced fingers, Christine’s just a shade darker than hers, thinner, and painted with random colors, mismatched and perfect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope!” Christine beams and kisses Jenna on the lips, quick and fast and with a teasing smile, and the world stops for a moment, bright and shining, sparkling like snow under a clear winter sun. Soft and sweet, the simple moment sends her heart racing, and she wants more so bad, she nearly pulls Christine into her lap. “As long as I’m with you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t finish that.” Jenna laughs and then tugs on Christine’s shirt, and Christine takes the hint to shyly slip onto Jenna’s lap, curling into her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because it’s cheesy.” Jenna smiles anyway, feeling faintly like an idiot for smiling so much, but she can’t seem to stop. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> trying, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>Christine.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Her Christine. Christine who has a million sharp words and looks thrown her way- they tell her </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop dreaming,</span>
  </em>
  <span> they tell her</span>
  <em>
    <span> you sure you’re all there?</span>
  </em>
  <span> they tell her</span>
  <em>
    <span> calm down, jeez, </span>
  </em>
  <span>or</span>
  <em>
    <span> kindly shut up</span>
  </em>
  <span> and her eyes never stop sparkling anyway, her voice never drops quieter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine opens her mouth to respond to that, but Jenna scoops up her courage like gathering Easter eggs from a tree a little high up and kisses Christine- a real kiss, not the fleeting press of lips on lips, but the more needy type of kiss, her heart pounding in her chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slips one hand through Christine’s hair, twisting the shoulder-length strands around her fingers as she tries to match Christine’s rhythm and tries to quell the fire erupting in her veins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine’s probably better than Jenna at kissing; she’s had more a boyfriend or two before, but she doesn’t seem to be complaining. Jenna’s heart beats out of her chest, sending her somewhere up into the clouds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kissing, Jenna decides, is the only thing worth her time- it’s fucking amazing. The firm press of Christine’s lips, the faint strawberry of her own lip-gloss that has come off on Christine’s lips and then back, the gentle push and pull between the two of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine’s soft lips pull away, and Jenna’s eyes fly open as she makes a small noise of protest. Christine just smiles disarmingly innocently, and swings one leg over so she’s got one leg on either side of Jenna and Jenna lets out a small, “Oh.” She wishes they weren’t out in a park. Preferably that they weren’t out at all. Ideally, in a bedroom, maybe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” Christine murmurs, still inches from Jenna’s mouth, “I don’t like shopping though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenna’s eyes fly open. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Shopping is my jam!” She pulls Christine’s body into her anyway, her curves pressing against her own. She can feel Christine’s heartbeat, the shape of her hips, the dip in her dress’s neckline when Christine leans forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine just makes a face, looks as if she’s considering saying something, then goes back to kissing Jenna.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything is new- the feel of Christine’s hand cupping the back of her neck, the feeling of being able to kiss the girl she likes no matter who’s around-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yo lesbos!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenna and Christine yank apart to see a couple of white men watching them with leering expressions. They look to be in their late twenties, maybe. “That’s hot!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah man, that’s kinky, don’t stop the show on account of us,” the other agrees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenna can feel Christine go tense in her lap, like a rabbit ready to spring. She can’t take the tremble in Christine’s fingers. “Yo pervert!” she yells back, “Lesbians want you even </span>
  <em>
    <span>less</span>
  </em>
  <span> than straight girls! Go fuck yourself!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two men glare, but they stumble away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn,” Christine murmurs into her hair, “You’re fucking hot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenna raises an eyebrow, but she’s not very good at it, so she lifts the second and Christine laughs and kisses her on the nose. “Since when do you swear like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine pecks Jenna on the cheek. “You were doing that new thing called </span>
  <em>
    <span>standing up for yourself</span>
  </em>
  <span> so I tried a new thing called </span>
  <em>
    <span>cursing</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Christine</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenna’s smile is worth the time it takes to say the words instead of spending that time doing other things, like kissing, but still. Kissing. Very good idea. Such a good idea, in fact, that Christine is having a hard time thinking about anything other than Jenna’s mouth, at the moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You- uh-” She stares at Jenna’s full lips. “Kissing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenna laughs, not high the way Christine’s is, but full and rich in a way that fills the air. “Let’s not stop on account of them,” she says, and Christine swoops in again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, the slide of their mouths, the easy push of their lips, the tiny hints of tongue that grow not so tiny until Christine begins to struggle to keep her hands to herself. She runs her hands through Jenna’s hair, feeling the sound Jenna makes in her mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is new,” she remarks when she finally pulls away, breathing heavily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenna opens her eyes and looks at Christine, who is only a tiny bit above Jenna because she’s in Jenna’s lap. “What is? I thought you and Jeremy-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- we kissed, yeah. But…” Christine tries to pin the feeling down. “Wanting to do it, for one. Doing it with someone I really like-” She winks, enjoying Jenna’s flush (she’s rather red herself, she’s sure)- “Doing it with a girl, and um.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um,” Christine confirms bashfully, and doesn’t say anything else. Instead, she looks at her hands, one on Jenna’s breast- when did that get there?- and the other on the back of Jenna’s neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenna lets out a small little breath that brushes Christine’s lips. “Wanting to do more?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine grins. “I think taking it slow might be a good idea. A responsible one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenna shakes her head. “Really?” Christine opens her mouth- “No, you’re right, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well…” Christine hesitates. “Or.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine stands, fire rushing in her veins, drunk and intoxicated, high on nothing but Jenna Rolan. “Or not. Do you wanna hang at my place?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hang?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine flushes, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks and down her back. “Shut up, you know what I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenna slides her hands off of Christine’s hips. “Let’s go be irresponsible.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I love Jenna and Christine so much, you don't understand. It's a problem.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Talk to Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Boyfs are back!!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Jeremy</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine’s dating Jenna now, and Rich and Jake have his back and Michael isn’t even his friend anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy can’t tell himself he’s not doing it because he’s afraid to hurt Christine. He can no longer say it’s because he’s scared of the homophobes, because Jake and Rich are a fucking hit team. He can’t even say it’s because he’s afraid he’ll lose what he and Michael </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> have, because they don’t have anything right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right now they have anger and hurt and distrust. At least on Michael’s side, Jeremy’s sure. On Jeremy’s side, there’s regret. And… regret. And so much damn longing and </span>
  <em>
    <span>missing</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>wishing</span>
  </em>
  <span> and staring and knowing full well that the minute Michael turns his head, Jeremy’s heart will stop in his throat and begin to crumble piece by piece.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It does. He reconstructs it only to have it tapped and shattered every time he lets his eyes drift or allows his thoughts to wander.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And after a day, he just has to admit that he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>afraid.</span>
  </em>
  <span> There’s nothing else to it, no whys, no excuses, he just </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine sighs dramatically, air whooshing from her lungs loudly. “Honestly Jeremy. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> what you don’t understand- like, if I knew earlier I would’ve said something- see… look.” Jeremy shifts uncomfortably when Christine takes a breath as if fortifying herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, just say it.” He buries his face in his hands, face burning. He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> pathetic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re never not going to be afraid. You’re afraid because you care, and there’s never going to be a moment when you look at him and you think </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh my god, this is the moment he says yes</span>
  </em>
  <span> without being scared. Like, you’ve been staring at him for a week and a half- even more ever since you- </span>
  <em>
    <span>ahem</span>
  </em>
  <span>- ‘talked’ to him, and you’ve never had that moment. So you can’t give up waiting to </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> because you won’t freaking know until you pull your miserable, cowardly ass together and </span>
  <em>
    <span>ask</span>
  </em>
  <span> and you’re going to be scared and you’re going to have to fucking deal with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.” Jeremy swallows, his heart pounding and his palms drenched with sweat. “Bravery, not fearlessness.” He taps his fingers on his knee. “He doesn’t want to talk to me, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine opens her mouth to reply when Jemma pops up in all her over-lip glossed glory, wiggling her sparking phone. “You have a phone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.” Jeremy agrees again, “No more excuses.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jeremy: </b>
  <span>Sorry for everything. Can we talk?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Delivered </span>
  </em>
  <span>the tiny bolded letters read below the text message. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh my god.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It’s out there now. Jeremy stares at the screen for a couple of seconds, tapping the back of his phone incessantly with his fingers before finally giving in. He can’t deal with this. He can’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jeremy: </b>
  <span>I know I don’t deserve it. I know I suck.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jeremy:</b>
  <span> I was an asshole.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jeremy: </b>
  <span>I am an asshole.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jeremy:</b>
  <span> I just really want to talk to you because I miss you</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jeremy:</b>
  <span> I’ll be a better friend I promise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy stares at his phone, giving Michael about a minute before he reaches for it again, the cool screen clicking.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jeremy:</b>
  <span> I know what I want now I figured it out</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jeremy: </b>
  <span>You have no idea how much I fucking miss you</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jeremy:</b>
  <span> I get it if you don’t want to talk to me</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jeremy:</b>
  <span> One chance Michael PLEASE I won’t blow this one if I do you can hate me forever</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jeremy:</b>
  <span> I understand if you already do actually</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jeremy: </b>
  <span>please please please can we talk</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy doesn’t know what he’ll do when he gets there- maybe fuck it all up all over again. When you think of Jeremy Heere, the first words that arise are </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck-up </span>
  </em>
  <span>and</span>
  <em>
    <span> absolute mess</span>
  </em>
  <span> or </span>
  <em>
    <span>failure.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But for Michael, he’ll fucking try with everything he has, and really, that’s all anyone can do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Michael</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Call him sentimental or sappy, but for all his trying to pull out of the dark hole that is being in love with a best friend that doesn’t want him anymore, he’s still kept Jeremy’s text tone and ringtone separate from the others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the first one sounds, Michael stops his hand before it reaches his phone and uses the last of his self control to take a moment. Ready for his heart to get broken, ready to be sent up and come crashing back down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ready for the frustration that builds in his chest every time Jeremy sends him mixed signals.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael switches off his single player and his resolve shatters when the chime repeats, again, again, again, impossibly fast.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What do I have to lose?</span>
  </em>
  <span> The answer is easy: the distance between them. If he loses the distance he’s fought so hard for, everything will hurt more. But at the end of the day, it’s only Michael’s body and mind that have wrenched themselves free; his heart is still very much in Jeremy’s hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Possibly his mind hasn’t quite triumphed either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The texts start coming again, and when Michael finally allows himself to devour them, they fill the emptiness inside him that’s been building for days. They give him hope and light and the </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrible</span>
  </em>
  <span> possibility of even </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> pain, but Michael is smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Michael:</b>
  <span> Bro chill out man get over here</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Jeremy has plans, he better fucking cancel them.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jeremy:</b>
  <span> yes please</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jeremy:</b>
  <span> fuck i mean thank you</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jeremy: </b>
  <span>youre the most amazing person i ever met. I don’t deserve this</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jeremy:</b>
  <span> wait but no take backs</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’ve got to be kidding. </span>
  </em>
  <span>After all his careful defenses, the walls crumble before that one sentence. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re the most amazing person I ever met.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rad,” he remarks sarcastically to the poster on the wall, “I’m so fucked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael can’t help feeling a bit restless as he waits for Jeremy, pacing the basement before finally abandoning it all together and jogging up the stairs to wait by the door. Jeremy’s taking longer than usual.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bring</span>
  </em>
  <span>! The single rattle of his doorbell makes Michael jump, but he takes a moment to calm himself before opening the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit, man!” Michael laughs incredulously, staring at Jeremy’s doubled over, panting form, the pale forehead slicked with sweat and no car in sight. “What- wait don’t tell me- you ran here, didn’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy nods hurriedly, and Michael notices his cheeks are bright red. “I wanted-” he breathes heavily, and Michael’s mind does dirty things with the sound. “I wanted-” </span>
  <em>
    <span>pant-</span>
  </em>
  <span> “to talk to you-” </span>
  <em>
    <span>gasp-</span>
  </em>
  <span> “and Dad had the car.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy has made no move to enter, and Michael frowns, trying to catch those summer-sky eyes. Jeremy never needed an invitation inside, not for years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come in?” It comes out like a question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah.” Jeremy does, and there’s something inexplicably reassuring about how they both head down to the basement without another word, the first time they’ve been in sync since the whole… thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two collapse on the futon, Jeremy on the left, Michael on the right, as always. Nearly five feet apart, but facing each other. As always.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just close enough to touch hands, but they don’t.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jeremy</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael. Michael, Michael, Michael.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The red sweatshirt, the light wafting smell of weed in the basement, the ridiculously high stack of cassette tapes in the corner and the TV with a stack of video game books and flyers and magazines and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Michael.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The wary twist of his full lips, the black hair that’s a bit of a curly less, the play of artificial basement lighting on his smooth face that curls down his gentle curve of a jaw and catches on the dark lashes and lights the brown his Michael’s clear eyes and dance off the rim of his glasses, the eyebrows drawn together in two warring sides, hope and defense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy missed him so much and now-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So.” Michael speaks, smooth and rough, tense and easy, and Jeremy can do nothing but throw himself at Michael and hug him fiercely. “Oh,” Michael says in his ear, and then Michael’s arms are hugging him back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy can feel the firm press of Michael’s arms, and hear the sharp, surprised breath in his ear, followed by a swallow that makes his fingers tingle. “Fuck,” Jeremy whispers, hauling himself out of Michael’s lap before he gets a boner, “I missed you so fucking much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael laughs, the rich sound filling Jeremy’s heart. It’s better than getting high after weeks of pot-less misery. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> missed </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He shakes his head, the curls on his head bouncing just so. “I missed you too, but…” He doesn’t finish the sentence and Jeremy bites his lip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fact that Michael missed him after all of that… it’s more than he could ever ask for. How can he want more?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you,” Jeremy says again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Michael watches him, eyes unreadable, and Jeremy can feel the blood rushing to his face. Finally, “I think you should start talking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right yea, I’ll- yeah.” Jeremy agrees immediately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rad. Great.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>What are words?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Michael has beautiful eyelashes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, okay, so.” Jeremy plucks at a loose thread. “So um. Fuck. I mean, obviously I want to be friends again.” He’s just doing a </span>
  <em>
    <span>great</span>
  </em>
  <span> job starting off truthfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael shifts his legs so they’re criss cross and he’s fully facing Jeremy, as if Jeremy is his sole focus. He’s always been like this; makes you the most important thing there. And Jeremy can’t believe he never even realized the jump his heart gives every time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think we can ever be normal,” Jeremy blurts out, words spilling from his tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael draws back just a little. “Why the fuck not?” he asks, smooth voice hitting the air gray.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy’s fingers twitch, itching to reach out and grab Michael and pull him closer again. “That’s not- I don’t mean like in a bad way, I just, we’ve been through some shit. I put you through some shit- so much shit, Michael, I’m so sorry for fucking everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s something wild and overwhelming building up in Jeremy, and he can feel it fighting its way out. Just thinking about everything Michael’s had to deal with makes him want to jump out of himself and beat his own ass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t- I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> I can’t take it back,” Jeremy huffs, “Obviously. But- I just hope you know I would. If I could. I’d- I would take it back.” Now he risks another glance up, and Michael’s brow wrinkles. Jeremy wants to smooth it over. “All of it,” he clarifies quickly, watching Michael’s eyes widen. “Everything. The SQUIP, blocking you, fighting with you, ignoring you at the party… fuck, you were right. You were so right and I was an asshole about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jere,” Michael interrupts, looking like he might laugh or cry. “Don’t you dare fucking cry. ‘S okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy blinks, realizing Michael was right- he was about to cry. “No it isn’t, it’s so fucking not okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well it’s going to be. Right? We’re going to be fucking rad.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Oh, shit, shit, shit- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, I told you not to cry!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Jeremy takes deep breaths, “yeah, yeah. Has anyone ever stopped to tell you how fucking amazing you are?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael’s smile glows softly, bittersweet. “Once upon a time, my best friend told me I was their favorite person.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jeremy’s heart twists painfully at the memory, guilt coating his stomach again. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to cry, </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I know, I mean, you don’t have to believe me but- I just- Micha, you still are. I’m going to fucking prove it, I swear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even Michael’s laughter is soft, like a hug Jeremy doesn’t deserve. “I do trust you, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy’s heart jumps in his chest. “Don’t say things you don’t mean or you’ll end up like me.”</span>
  <em>
    <span> Perpetually cursing yourself for hurting wonderful people.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy’s about to laugh… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Michael offers his hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Michael</b>
</p><p>
  <span>All Michael wanted to do was ignore the past completely, but if this is talking about it, he’s not complaining. Jeremy’s apologies heal wounds he was prepared to ignore, draws pains out of places he didn’t want to admit were hurting, and makes him want to believe in Michael-and-Jeremy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Also: that hug. Also: </span>
  <em>
    <span>I missed you.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Also: </span>
  <em>
    <span>I would take it back. All of it.</span>
  </em>
  <span> (Even Christine? Not that Michael asks.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where did you… is this from Jake’s party?” Michael can feel the fear bouncing off the walls in Jeremy’s voice. He watches the pale fingers tracing the darkened scar in the palm of his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was a doorknob- you know, the fire- and I just grabbed it trying to get out.” Michael focuses on the cool touch, though the tingles have stilled and now Jeremy’s two hands just cradle his own. “I was just- I was drunk and high and-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You made out with some hoe in the- in- didn’t you?” Jeremy sounds inexplicably upset.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well. Um. How did you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy waves him off impatiently. “There was a window- I know, who does that-” Michael makes a face, not sure how he feels about Jeremy seeing him make out with </span>
  <em>
    <span>some hoe</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They’ve never really talked about the pride patch on his sweatshirt. “Dude, did you even know her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael doesn’t understand why this is relevant. “She had weed, so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy’s hands slide casually off of Michael’s, but the loss- at least to Michael- is acute. “Since when do you kiss anyone who’s got weed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Okay, what?</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Since I’m also already drunk and trying not to have another panic attack, by distracting myself with literally anything I can find.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels Jeremy freeze beside him before he registers what he’s just let slip. “Oh,” Jeremy says, but when Michael opens his mouth, not even knowing what he plans to say, Jeremy says, “Oh. I so fucking deserve to be in hell. Shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were drunk,” Michael says finally, still not quite ready to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>it’s okay.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “And you were going through a lot, probably.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy laughs self-deprecatingly. “None of that shit was your fault though. Literally everything </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> went through was a direct result of whatever bullshit I was pulling at the time. Every. Single. Thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I’ll get over it.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m over it</span>
  </em>
  <span> would be a lie, but years of friendship don’t vanish because of a couple of terrible decisions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy groans, burying his face in his hands, so that all Michael can see is the messy light brown nest of hair that he’s dreamed of running his fingers through for years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should hate me,” he hears Jeremy mutter from behind his hands. His voice is muffled. “Why don’t you hate me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Because,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Michael thinks at him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jeremy</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why don’t you hate me?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy can’t hide the misery that drips from his voice, the defeat in the set of his shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lots of reasons,” comes a bright reply. Jeremy just moans into his hands and doesn’t lift his head. “Jeremy.” The black of his palms pressed against his eyes suddenly becomes fascinating. “Jeremy, I’m serious, lots of things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm.” Jeremy agrees noncommittally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something warm erupts in his stomach when Michael’s fingers gently begin tugging Jeremy’s hands away. “You’re awkward. And. That’s fun and endearing. And it, um. Makes me more comfortable around you, so. And you chase after what you want in your own way, like when you came to talk to me and- I mean, not that you </span>
  <em>
    <span>want me</span>
  </em>
  <span>-” Michael breaks off awkwardly.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You have no idea,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jeremy thinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re funny and you’re entertaining and you care about me- you actually, legitimately care, or you wouldn’t be here- and you’re a good person-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha-ha.” Jeremy says flatly to his hands, trying not to blush wildly. Michael gently holds them like he has no idea what it does to Jeremy’s heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you were a bad person, you won’t feel bad and you are sitting here wallowing in regret, so…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to cheer me up,” he mumbles, feeling pathetic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jeremiah Heere, do not pull some I-deserve-misery shit on me, you dickwad. You’re my best friend, okay? It’s my duty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy wants to say he literally failed that exact duty for about a month, but when he opens his mouth, all that he can articulate over the soft glow of joy spreading through him is, “Best friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael looks at him. “Um. Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Julio?” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fucking shut up, you sound so jealous. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The thing about Michael is that he destroys every thought in Jeremy’s brain and leaves him with things like </span>
  <em>
    <span>Julio?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael raises his eyebrows. “...No, we literally started hanging out, like, two weeks ago.:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy can’t stop grinning. “Oh. Okay. Well it’s my turn.” Slowly, he winds his fingers through Michael’s as he speaks, hoping Micha can’t feel his pulse quicken. “You’re funny and the best friend literally in the whole world-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Awww.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy ducks his head. “Shut up, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span>! And you’re, like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael nods in agreement. “I am me. That’s true.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy fights a smile. “No, see, you’re just like that. Terrible and you don’t give a fuck. You’re always </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Always always always. And god, it’s impossible to narrow down the many reasons why you’re the best thing that ever fucking happened to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The best thing,” Michael echoes, grinning infectiously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If it gets him to smile like that, Jeremy should say it every single day. He already should have been. Every day. “Fuck yes. You, okay? You and getting stoned in your basement and your video games and you know.” Jeremy shrugs tightly, “Just, like, existing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, Jere.” Michael looks like he’s fishing for words in an empty lake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Jeremy says, “For giving me so many chances.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, it was your dad who convinced me to give you one more. Back before the school play.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy gapes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Really? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“My dad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he was determined to help you out, and for some reason he thought I was, like, the best way to get through to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy scoffs. “Obviously.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, give him some credit!” Michael grins, shoving Jeremy’s shoulder with his own. “You wanna play?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy grins right back. “Yeah. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just no throwing remotes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael jerks his controller too much, like always. Jeremy’s tongue peeks out of his mouth as he concentrates, and he only notices after the game is over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They win this time.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Love you guys!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Just His Best Friend</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>More being messy and shit, because they can't get their gay together.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Jeremy</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“So are you two a thing yet, or are you two a thing? Because I’m pretty sure what I’m hearing is that you guys are so completely a thing.” Christine’s voice blares loudly from the phone Jeremy has to his ear, and Jeremy winces, holding it farther away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not- I said </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m so fucking happy.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Jeremy grabs a pack of cheez-its from the pile of snacks on the shelf. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m reading between the lines here, okay? Getting what you want is what makes you happy and I’m pretty sure sucking Michael’s dick is what you want-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jenna! Get Christine back on, you weren’t supposed to be listening!” Jeremy buries his face in his pillows even though no one can see him. The speakers fumble, and then Christine’s voice returns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t deny it,” Christine sing-songs, “You want it, you got it-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We didn’t- I didn’t- we’re friends, okay? I- I-” Jeremy stutters. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I didn’t want to scare him off.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re kidding right? Tell me you went to his house and </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally </span>
  </em>
  <span>talked to him and hooked up and took it up the ass and-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What my girlfriend is trying to say is that we hope you weren’t an idiot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not- we are not a thing.” Jeremy’s getting cheez-it crumbs on his bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy hears a groan. “He didn’t make a move.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope,” he confirms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As long as you’re not scared.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scared? He’s terrified. He’s so wildly scared, he can’t even think about talking to Michael about it without going cold all over. “I’m not scared. I just think I should maybe give him some time, you know-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Christine interrupts, “You’ll get the guy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy can’t help yearning for that to be true with every cell in his body. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll get the guy.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “What if-” he starts, not knowing how to finish. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What if he doesn’t like me? What if he says no? What if he realizes I’m, well, </span>
  </em>
  <span>me</span>
  <em>
    <span>? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Repeat: You’ll get the guy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll get the guy,” Jeremy mumbles, feeling stupid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll have a great date-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll have a great date.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’ll love it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’ll love it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’ll tell him you’re madly in love, and he’ll say it back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy laughs awkwardly. “I’ll tell him I’m madly in love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And he’ll say it back,” Jeremy whispers with a shy smile, daydreaming now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.” Jenna hangs up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to guess you’re talking about Michael.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy whips around to see his dad grinning cheekily at him from the doorway to his bedroom, two grocery bags in hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long have-” Jeremy squeaks, his face flooding with color.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s only one person you’re madly in love with,” Jeremy’s dad smiles, “You think I didn’t notice?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy’s eyes pop. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t notice until, like, this week, Dad!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy’s dad looks as if he’s trying not to laugh. “Really? It’s been there for </span>
  <em>
    <span>years</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Michael</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re cool now,” he informs Julio with a huge grin. “He was the greatest about it. I don’t think I’ve ever liked him more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julio claps him on the back. “Good job, bro.” He narrows his eyes at the entrance to the cafeteria. “If he doesn’t fucking sit here, though, he’s about to catch some ha-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael’s heart lifts at the slightly high, boyish voice he knows so well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whose hands. My hands, you can catch my hands.” Julio stumbles, before realizing- “Oh, I mean you. If you don’t sit in this fucking seat, you can catch my hands.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael wants to bury his face in his hands but he opts for a shrug and a smile. “You used to,” he says defensively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy slides clumsily onto the bench, stumbling into Michael and blurting out a quick apology. Does he lean into Michael longer than he needs to, or is that just Michael?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy takes a long breath, and Michael unscrews the thermos Jeremy’s eyeing, just like the old days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stir-Friday,” he beams. Jeremy’s returning smile is a wonder to behold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two of them exchange bites the way they used to and this time Michael can’t ignore the blush that brightens on Jeremy’s cheeks. He wishes he knew what it meant. He knows what he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants </span>
  </em>
  <span>it to be but… well. That’s never happening, and Michael is… on his way to accepting that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re friends now- best friends- and Michael’s happier than he’s been in </span>
  <em>
    <span>months</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Plus his daydreams are pretty stimulating. He could live off them if he needs to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you boyfriends?” Julio watches them carefully. Michael jabs Julio with his elbow. “What, are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Michael exclaims quickly, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Jeremy agrees with an odd expression. “Just his best friend.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julio bows his head in surrender. “Fair enough. Just looked like you wanted… you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael stares at Julio. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What the hell?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He wants to hiss, but he doesn’t need Jeremy thinking anything of it. Jeremy is spluttering behind him, but Michael doesn’t know what that means either- probably he’s just being his normal awkward self.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael and Julio are going to need to talk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Ramical: </b>
  <span>Dude wut was that?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Coolio:</b>
  <span> Facetime me</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael answers the request that follows that text, glaring at the guy on the other end as soon as he’s on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look man, I’m sorry about not warning you first, yea?” Julio holds up a finger. “It wasn’t planned. It also wasn’t me trying to wingman.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t ask what it </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Michael interjects impatiently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That, my man, was a genuine reaction to your boyfriend.” Julio taps his temple with a mock-knowing look. “He’s got it bad for you, dude. I’m not being a supportive friend, okay, I’m being an </span>
  <em>
    <span>honest guy</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Trust me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael groans, dropping his head down to hide his heated cheeks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What if it’s true?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He can’t help hoping. The universe must really like messing with him because he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost</span>
  </em>
  <span> ready to get over the fact that Jeremy would never be his and now </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, I appreciate it, but I’d rather not get my hopes up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julio shrugs with an exasperated expression. “Just you wait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever, man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, legit! I bet you ten bucks right now that he likes you.” Julio must be really bad at reading signs- there’s no way Julio’s right. Jeremy had a </span>
  <em>
    <span>girlfriend</span>
  </em>
  <span>- though she’s now being pretty gay with Jenna. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(What if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> right, though?)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bet,” Michael has a ten somewhere in his weed-money stash, but he’s not going to need it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m about to play a few more rounds-” Michael snorts because Julio never quits after just a few- “but if you invite your boyfriend we can be a three player instead of being lonely. And single.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael grins. He doesn’t mind that three-player is harder without the fourth- any excuse to hang out with Jeremy without seeming clingy. As a friend. Clingy as a friend. “Yeah, I’ll ask.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three texts and one five-minute drive later, Jeremy hops into the passenger seat of Michael’s PT cruiser, absolutely adorable for no particular reason- he just is. Maybe it’s the smile Jeremy’s giving him, like Michael’s the center of the universe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look…” Micahel starts before he knows where the sentence is going. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I look?” Jeremy prompts with an anxious grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael looks away before his eyes have time to catch on anything (like Jeremy’s lips). “Dunno,” he tells the steering wheel, “like… like you’re happy to see me.” He doesn’t look back over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy laughs a bit too high. “‘Course I am, Player One.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jeremy</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy can’t believe it. When he </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span> manages to address all the walls that stand between him and Michael, a new one has to come and fuck it all up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Julio asked if Jeremy and Michael were boyfriends (God, he wishes so fucking much), Jeremy </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost</span>
  </em>
  <span> said exactly what Julio did that day in the hallway. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No, just his best friend, though I wouldn’t say no.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently, now he can’t even look at Michael without seeming unusually happy. Jeremy really does ruin everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Michael pulls up at Julio’s house, Jeremy is almost relieved to be there, because as much as he loves being near Michael, the proximity drives him insane. He can barely think when he knows Michael’s warm body is right next to his. His teenage brain just </span>
  <em>
    <span>won’t stop</span>
  </em>
  <span> when Michael’s dark fingers wrap around the gear shift solidly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey dudes,” Julio greets them at the door of his apartment. Julio wears a smile that nearly outshines Michael’s, and Michael smiles back. Jeremy isn’t jealous. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>isn’t.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He has no right to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Coolio,” Michael returns easily, stepping in and slipping off his shoes like he belongs there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Is that a nickname?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy looks at Julio, who’s smiling too much, and Michael, who’s grinning. Not that Michael isn’t allowed to grin at other people, but that grin tickles something in Jeremy’s stomach, and something dark grows there instead when he sees it directed at someone else. Someone who’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>date</span>
  </em>
  <span> Michael.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julio’s more muscular than Jeremy and has the short stubble of someone who actually has to shave and Jeremy knows that- objectively- Julio’s quite a catch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What if Michael thinks so too? Not objectively?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Julio</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Julio grins softly to himself as he leads the two “friends” down the hallway to the office/video game/ TV room where he usually plays. He’s being very unsubtle about his come-on to Michael, and he can practically </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jeremy glaring daggers into the back of his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> likes Michael. He keeps staring whenever Michael smiles, blushing when Michael looks his way, stuttering when Michael talks to him, the list goes on. Now Julio just needs to give them a little push.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, um.” Julio tries his best to not smile, attempting for sheepish instead. “We actually just got the rug cleaned, and my mom’s really- well- no one’s allowed to sit on it, you dig?” There’s only one other thing to sit on- a loveseat barely enough for two.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Michael says flatly, narrowing his eyes at Julio. Julio just winks back, and Michael quickly looks over at Jeremy. Julio has to fight laughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy’s embarrassment is almost comical, the way his mouth is half open and his cheeks are redder than Julio thought was possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” Julio makes a face as if he felt something, and pulls his phone out, pretending to check it. “Shit, I’ll be right back- maybe a couple of hours? Seriously, don’t wait for me. Just gotta get my- uh- half sister.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael sends him a tight look that says </span>
  <em>
    <span>I know exactly what you’re doing.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “I didn’t know you had a half sister.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julio widens his eyes innocently- at least, he hopes he looks innocent. “Oh! You should meet her sometime, she’s so fucking precious. Her smile reminds me of you.” He might die laughing the moment he gets out of the house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy looks outraged and turns to Michael. “I think your smile is really nice too,” he counters almost defensively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael blinks and ducks his head. “Oh.” He looks a bit dazed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy- still red- shifts on his feet. “I never- I haven’t told you I thought…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julio takes this as his cue to duck out quietly.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Actually...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jeremy tries to play it cool, and then he tries to tell Michael. He's not very good at either of these things.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Jeremy</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Does the universe consider me a joke?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jeremy’s so tense, he’s 99% sure someone up there is laughing at him, completely enjoying his misery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To be fair, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jeremy</span>
  </em>
  <span> is enjoying his misery- in a way. Michael’s body presses tight against his own, and the loveseat seems to be made for very small people- or perhaps two lovers- because Michael’s very nearly in Jeremy’s lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Michael’s the kind of player that moves with his directives- when he sends his character left, he jerks left, leaning into Jeremy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jeremyyyyy! Focus, jeez.” Shit. Michael jabs Jeremy with his elbow as Jeremy dies- </span>
  <em>
    <span>again-</span>
  </em>
  <span> because Michael just looks so </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy</span>
  </em>
  <span> playing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael’s eyes have a bright spark in them, his hair is rumpled, his full lips parted in a smile- not the smile you use to show people you’re happy, but the smile you produce for yourself because you can’t help it. Micahel’s clear skin and glasses, flushed cheeks and warm, red sweatshirt… He looks painfully kissable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, totally,” Jeremy agrees quickly, yanking his eyes to the screen, but as they keep going, his mind wanders again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span> had time to properly fantasize now- he had a dream last night that he can’t get out of his head- you know, one of those teenage boy dreams that had him startling awake, embarrassingly close. Now when he looks at Michael, all he can think of is when those lips met his own, when those fingers trailed over his chest, when those eyes wandered as if Jeremy was something </span>
  <em>
    <span>worth</span>
  </em>
  <span> wanting. And the moment right before he woke up, when Michael’s hands traveled down-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, Jere, are you even trying?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy casts about wildly for something to say. And a pillow, a blanket, or </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> to cover his lap- and comes up blank. “Um.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jere…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy gestures to the screen where his avatar is displayed, an ax buried in his chest. “Just, you know, thinking about our game plan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael licks his bottom lip, a nervous habit of his, and Jeremy can’t believe he spent this long not realizing he’s in love with Michael when Michael’s tongue draws his eyes like a magnet and Jeremy realizes he’s been hungrily watching for that peek of tongue for what has to be years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Jeremy asks when Mifchael doesn’t stop looking at him. He can’t figure out which one is responsible for how his whole body is hot right now- is it because Michael’s staring at him or because he fantasized about that exact tongue on his neck yesterday? Hot, open mouthed kisses. Like his mind is working overtime to make up for all the years of Michael-induced horniness he’s lost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Michael replies, looking away so Jeremy can drink in his profile again. “It’s not- it’s nothing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Michael</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy’s been watching him for nearly an hour, and Michael’s been trying to ignore it. Except he can’t help shifting self-consciously, or taking small swipes at his face when Jeremy looks away just in case there’s something on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then again, if he had chocolate on his face or something, Jeremy would tell him instead of just staring at him, right? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Or lick it off.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>No- </span>
  <em>
    <span>no.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Michael shoves the thought down. He’s not going to lose his best friend (again) over something like accidentally falling in love with him. God no.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the fact remains that Jeremy is staring, and Michael is self conscious, and also doesn’t understand what that strange look in Jeremy’s eyes is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not, obviously.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael doesn’t turn. “It’s starting.” He presses play and his figure bounds forwards. He directs it easily from rooftop to rooftop- the beginning of the level is always easy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy’s character kills itself. Herself. Michael opens his mouth to object when Jeremy literally turns and tugs him around until they’re facing each other, legs a tangled, compressed bunch between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Micheal’s heart beats double time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just-” Jeremy’s eyes are wide and his cheeks are flushed and overall, he looks kind of… No, Michael needs to stop reading into things too hopefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry- let me just stop you there- can we sit more-” Michael’s leg is beginning to cramp painfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Jeremy seems to consider for a moment, and Michael can pin the exact moment Jeremy thinks of something embarrassing, because Jeremy’s eyes widen comically and he looks away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Jeremy shifts wordlessly, his mouth moving like he’s trying to say something and can’t find the words, and when they’re finally down clambering over each other, Michael is in Jeremy’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>lap.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Their faces are a foot apart, and Jeremy’s wide blue eyes are </span>
  <em>
    <span>right there</span>
  </em>
  <span> and they’re so close, Michael can </span>
  <em>
    <span>hear</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jeremy swallow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just,” Jeremy says, “We can’t do this again- it’s- I can’t-” Michael almost smirks as Jeremy huffs in frustration- which wipes the almost-smirk right off Michael’s face because he can </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jeremy’s breath curling over his own lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon, talk to me,” he teases, and Jeremy pounces on the words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Talk to </span>
  </em>
  <span>me. Just, you don’t have to trust me, but I- it kills me that something is making you upset and it could be me and you won’t even fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell me</span>
  </em>
  <span>-” Jeremy breaks off and looks away. It hits Michael, suddenly, that Jeremy really </span>
  <em>
    <span>cares</span>
  </em>
  <span> about him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>laughs</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but he fights it… and then he does laugh, just a little. Jeremy whips around to stare at Michael. His eyes are wide and he looks legitimately </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrified</span>
  </em>
  <span> that he’s said the wrong thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Relax,” Michael reassures Jeremy, still laughing, “It’s not about you, it’s… well it is you, but it’s not bad.” Jeremy’s shoulders sag with relief and Michael’s heart skips a bout when Jeremy’s smiles a little. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it good?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jeremy</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael is so close and that’s all good and fine (more than, really) except that Jeremy is… Jeremy has a </span>
  <em>
    <span>situation</span>
  </em>
  <span> and Michael ending up in his lap is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> helping. Michael in this loveseat and </span>
  <em>
    <span>facing him</span>
  </em>
  <span> has to be the worst idea Jeremy’s ever had. Ever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, as much as Michael looks like he needs to be kissed, Jeremy’s more focused on what Michael’s saying because what if it isn’t good and Michael hates him and-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kind of. I mean, from what you just said I don’t need to worry- that’s what was funny,” Michael explains. Jeremy twists his face in confusion. “I don’t know. We just kept losing and you kept looking at me, and I thought maybe we were losing our touch because.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy waits as Michael tips his head down and glances up at Jeremy shyly through his lashes like he doesn’t know what it does to Jeremy’s sanity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, because. I was, um.” Michael’s eyes flick back down to his hands, and Jeremy’s suddenly seized with the discovery that Michael’s fingers are really nice- tan and not too thin (Jeremy’s are), firmly linked and solid. “Because- I thought maybe you didn’t actually want to be my friend, but then you acted so concerned- I was just laughing at myself, because obviously that’s not- that’s not the case.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All big eyes and soft smile, Michael looks up at him then, and Jeremy can’t stand the idea of Michael actually, legitimately thinking there’s anything about him Jeremy wouldn’t want to be friends with. “Actually about that.” He can’t believe he’s doing this. “I was kinda lying about that first part.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael pulls back. “First part?” Dread seems to spill over his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When I said, um. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Obviously I want to be your friend again.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He’s gone over the conversation a million times in his head, and he knows he said something like this first thing, as if starting on lies would of course build them right back up again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael practically leaps off the loveseat, his hands shoved in his pockets and his eyebrows drawn together the way they do when he’s about to cry. “Are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>kidding</span>
  </em>
  <span> me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Too late, Jeremy realizes what he’s just implied. “Nononono- stop, that’s- that’s not what I meant, Michael.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael stops at the door, wiping his eyes furiously. “What the hell did you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I meant-” Jeremy’s throat struggles. He doesn’t even know how to word it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’d rather be your boyfriend.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Or </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe we could be more</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Or </span>
  <em>
    <span>not to fuck up what we’ve got going, but-</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck, he can’t do this. He physically can’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Michael’s voice breaks. It tears Jeremy to pieces. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What did you mean</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- forget it.” Jeremy shakes his head, pushing both hands through his hair. “I’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be your friend, </span>
  <em>
    <span>okay</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can feel the energy- frustration, disbelief, panic- bouncing off the walls. It’s stifling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Jeremy!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Michael laugh-sobs hysterically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Jeremy yells back helplessly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael turns away. “I can’t fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>do this</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he says over his shoulder. He’s got a hand in his hair and another wiping at his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeremy panics. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m in love with you!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm absolute trash for "I wasn't going to tell you but I should explain or you'll think I'm acting like this because there's something wrong with YOU and I can't bear you thinking that." </p><p>It's a very specific trope.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Still Sorry?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jeremy finally spills a his feelings, and Michael is literally such a mess.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Michael</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em></em>
  </strong>
  <em>What?</em>
</p><p>Michael doesn’t understand.</p><p>
  <em>What does that mean?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I… don’t…</em>
</p><p>
  <em>What?</em>
</p><p>And Jeremy. Just. His face. Like he just killed a puppy. Like he just handed a knife to the guy that’s trying to kill him. Like he wants to take it back.</p><p>He probably <em>will</em> take it back.</p><p>He doesn’t mean it.</p><p>
  <em>Does he?</em>
</p><p>And what is <em>it</em>? What does he mean?</p><p>
  <em>I’m in love with you.</em>
</p><p>Is there anything <em>else</em> that could mean? There’s no way Michael’s reading this wrong, right? <em>Right</em>? Because you don’t say <em>I’m in love with you</em> unless… well, unless you’re in love with them.</p><p>Somewhere in the haze of Michael’s mind, he realizes he should turn around. Look at Jeremy. So he does. And then Jeremy fills the blank white empty canvas of Michael’s mind with a river of words. Or a volcano. </p><p>Pacing. Pulling hair.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Jeremy says miserably, “I wasn’t going to tell you because you and me- I just got you back as a friend and I <em>do</em> want to be your friend.”</p><p>Michael blinks.</p><p>“But then I had to go and be weird about it, and you noticed, and I didn’t want to say it but you thought I didn’t want to be your friend-” </p><p>It’s so much, like a sensory overload. Jeremy’s talking double-time, his pacing is distracting- but Michael’s pretty sure, this time he isn’t reading it wrong.</p><p>His heartbeat surges, the breath leaves his lungs. The world has frozen and Jeremy defies it, still going full speed.</p><p>“I couldn’t let you think that, after, you know, everything.” Jeremy gulps. “So I told you.”</p><p>Jeremy looks quickly at Michael, tortured, but Michael can’t move. Jeremy tears his gaze away.</p><p>“That’s why I was staring at you, by the way. It’s your own fucking fault- because. <em>Because.” </em></p><p>Jeremy throws another frantic look his way, fleeting and loaded with something, a code that Michael has a key to, but he doesn’t want to decode the message, because he’s… afraid. Afraid that maybe, just maybe, he’s got the wrong key. </p><p>“You looked so <em>happy</em> and- and <em>kissable.”</em></p><p>And then it hits him. </p><p>
  <em>Boom.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Jeremy’s in love with me.</em>
</p><p>Just like that.</p><p>Jeremy keeps on going, words on words on words, and Michael’s mind begins to catch up.</p><p>
  <strong>Jeremy</strong>
</p><p>Jeremy is already royally fucked. He’s already gone too far and said too much, but he’s finding some sort of twisted satisfaction in digging himself deeper, knowing he’s already beyond saving, and besides, how much worse can it get?</p><p>“Do you even have any idea how fucking distracting you are?”</p><p>“Jeremy-” Michael takes a step away from the door.</p><p>“And I just- it’s your fault for being so perfect anyway, you know that? I wasn’t going to throw away this shot-”</p><p>“Jeremy-” Another step.</p><p>“I told myself that I wasn’t going to fuck it up and <em>you</em> fucked it up. You had to go and be kind and beautiful with your fucking hair and your whole fucking <em>face</em> and I had to go and mess it up <em>again-!”</em></p><p>“Jeremy-!” Michael’s eyes are less red and more… amused? Another step...</p><p>But Jeremy doesn’t want to hear what Michael has to say. He knows it’ll come eventually, but the longer he talks, the longer before he has to hear Michael let him down gently, and in this single, rushed moment, he clings to the impossible idea that he could talk forever and never have to hear his heart crack.</p><p>“I <em>am</em> sorry though,” he cuts Michael off swiftly, “I panicked and I- I didn’t mean to fuck us up like this, so yeah, I’m sorry-”</p><p>He’s so <em>close</em>. </p><p>“Oh my god,” Michael says, and kisses him.</p><p>Michael kisses him.</p><p>
  <em>Kisses.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Him.</em>
</p><p>Michael, who’s stood by his side for years, Michael who has a million kinds of obscure sodas, Michael who is always Jeremy’s Player 1, Michael who grins like life is a game and he’s winning, who smiles like he’s trying- and succeeding- to outshine the sun.</p><p>That Michael.</p><p>Michael, who has a warm hand cupping Jeremy’s cheek and the other gently pushed into Jeremy’s hair, pulling Jeremy down to Michael’s mouth. Michael, whose lips- perfect, soft lips- are sending Jeremy into this hypersensitive state where every casual stroke of Michael’s thumb against his cheek nearly kills him because he’s going weak in the knees and he wants and he needs and <em>Michael.</em></p><p>Michael, who’s pulling away carefully and <em>laughing</em>- albeit breathlessly- against Jeremy. Jeremy feels it against his neck.</p><p>“You’re an idiot,” Michael mumbles against the juncture between Jeremy’s neck and shoulder, and those wonderful lips brush his skin. Jeremy’s breath hitches in his throat and something warm coils in his stomach.</p><p>“You, uh.” Jeremy swallows and finally opens his eyes. “You kissed me.”</p><p>Michael presses his lips gently to Jeremy’s neck. Lightly. Shy. “Definitely an idiot.”</p><p>“So… do you…” Jeremy stares straight ahead. “Like me too?”</p><p>Michael punches Jeremy’s shoulder with a half-hearted fist for each syllable. “I-di-ot.”</p><p>Jeremy wavers over a smile, but it grows solid as Michael swipes tears from earlier off his cheeks with the corner of the sleeve of his red hoodie. “Is that a yes?”</p><p>Michael ducks his head low so his voice is muffled by Jeremy’s chest, and pulls Jeremy even closer. “I’ve only had a crush on you for five years.”</p><p>
  <em>Holy shit. Oh my god.</em>
</p><p>“Fucking hell!” Jeremy stumbles back to hold Michael in front of him by the shoulders so he can just <em>stare.</em> “I <em>am</em> an idiot.” He can’t seem to close his mouth. He just stands there, gaping.</p><p>Michael blushes and Jeremy almost swoons. “Still sorry you said something?”</p><p>Jeremy makes a strangled noise. “<em>No.</em>”</p><p>He can’t believe that Michael- Michael!- has had a crush on him for five years. Five!</p><p>And Jeremy had <em>no idea.</em></p><p>He really wants to kiss Michael breathless- which he’s about to do- and he can’t help wondering whether he’s a good kisser. He’s only kissed Christine SQUIPless, and he’s pretty sure he wasn’t that good.</p><p>Michael’s had kisses before. Michael’s had <em>gay</em> kisses before, which is totally unfair…</p><p>“I would’ve become a drug dealer if it meant you’d kiss me for an ounce.” And if he’d realized he liked Michael, which maybe was the real problem.</p><p>“You’re so random.” Michael steps back in.</p><p>“Sorry…” Michael’s so close <em>again</em>, and Jeremy wants to kiss him. Again.</p><p>“I love it.”</p><p>“Not sorry.” Jeremy leans down just a little.</p><p>Michael’s hands return to his hair, and Jeremy sighs as he feels them carding through. “I woulda kissed you for free if I knew you wanted me to.”</p><p>“I want you to,” Jeremy whispers, their lips a breath apart. “I really, really, really want you to.”</p><p>“Okay,” Michael whispers, and Jeremy can feel Michael’s lips brushing his own faintly as he flutters his eyes shut and lets Michael press their lips together once more. </p><p>Jeremy cautiously moves his hands to cup Michael’s face, revelling on the swooping in his chest, the euphoria, heaven on earth.</p><p>Michael’s… <em>good.</em> Jeremy has to adjust his angle as Michael tilts his head, allowing their mouths to slide together, and lets out a gasp when Michael goes a little deeper into the kiss, then pulls back again in a very purposeful catch and release.</p><p>When the two of them part for air, Jeremy’s boner comes back full force, is arousal only encouraged by Michael’s heavy breathing. Jeremy’s no better- he’s nearly panting. </p><p>“Be my boyfriend?” Jeremy blurts. <em>Well shit.</em> He really needs to work on his thoughts-to-speech filter. He shoves a hand through his hair and looks down at the knotted string bracelet on Michael’s wrist.</p><p>The hand sporting the bracelet reaches out to capture his own. “I legit thought you’d never ask.”</p><p>They both start and shoot away from each other as a voice sounds through the apartment, coming from a couple rooms down.</p><p>“No-! Stop-!” <em>Julio?</em> “Leave them alone-!”</p><p>And then a shaggy brown dog noses the closed door open, running in excited circles around them and sniffing curiously.</p><p>Julio’s voice sounds right outside the door. “You two good?”</p><p>“Uh-” Jeremy shifts, still not sure how he feels about Julio. “Yes?”</p><p>“Okay.” Julio sounds relieved, and he comes around the bend in all his better-looking-than-Jeremy glory. “Good. I thought you might be, like, having sex on my couch or something.”</p><p>Jeremy turns red- he can feel it all over his face- and can’t seem to find any words. He wastes several breaths stuttering and spluttering incoherently.</p><p>“Julio!” Michael objects, also red. Which is adorable on him.</p><p>“Couch?” </p><p>Julio raises an eyebrow when Jeremy finally manages a word (singular).</p><p>Julio just points to the corner, where- lo and behold- there is a sheet-covered couch.</p><p>“You had a <em>couch? </em>We needed a couch! Badly!” Michael strings words together much better than Jeremy can.</p><p>“I had a <em>plan</em>, and you two needed a <em>push.</em> Badly.”</p><p>“Where’s your…” <em>Wait</em>. Oh. “You don’t have a half-sister, do you?”</p><p><em>I had a plan.</em> Julio isn’t after Michael, not at all.</p><p>Julio just rolls his eyes. “He’s an idiot.”</p><p>Michael shoves Jeremy with his shoulder, smiling fondly. “I know.”</p><p>
  <strong>Michael</strong>
</p><p>Michael’s lips still tingle from <em>finally</em> being able to kiss Jeremy. Finally, finally, finally.</p><p>He can still barely believe it, except for the fact that all his dreams- both actual dreams and daydreams- were different. Like the sharpness of reality, the groundedness of actually having Jeremy’s sharp breath or feeling- <em>really</em> feeling- the soft brown hair.</p><p>Michael can pin down the moment when Jeremy finally realizes he doesn’t have to be jealous of Julio. His eyes go wide, then they narrow- then he shoots this incredulous look at Michael, like, <em>he knew?</em></p><p>Michael shoves his hands in his pockets, knowing that even his hunched shoulders won’t hide his blush. “I spent… a lot of time staring at you.”</p><p>“Weeks,” Julio supplies helpfully.</p><p>“<em>A</em> week.”</p><p>“At least a week and a half.”</p><p>Then, to Michael’s surprise, Jeremy steps forwards and opens his arms to Julio, looking sheepish. Julio stares at them for a beat and then accepts the hug with a smile.</p><p>“Thanks bro,” Michael can hear Jeremy say, “Fuck, thank you.” He pulls back. “Michael, he’s everything and I’m way too much of a mess to, like, figure my shit out on my own. Thank you so fucking much, I needed that.” </p><p>Julio raises an eyebrow over Jeremy at Michael.</p><p>Michael cycles his hands. <em>He rambles, </em>he mouths.</p><p><em>You mentioned,</em> Julio mouths back, and makes a face, flicking fingers like he’s counting. Jeremy looks between them, amused and flushed. “Twenty times?” He looks up as if deep in thought and Michael rolls his eyes. “More?”</p><p>“I-I love him. So I’m literally just so happy, I- thanks man.” Jeremy finally steps back, looking a bit shaken that he’s actually said… </p><p>Love.</p><p>
  <em>I love him.</em>
</p><p>Michael feels fuzzy again, and he can’t stop beaming.</p><p>“I told you!” Julio sing-songs, and Michael groans. “He loves you, he loves you, he loves you!”</p><p>Jeremy buries his face in Michael’s shoulder, and Michael nearly loses consciousness when Jeremy’s lips come in contact with his neck.</p><p>“Oh, you’re never letting this go.”</p><p>“Never,” Julio confirms, “But for now, I’ll have to politely ask you to get your own room, because as delightful as you two are, my carpet just got cleaned.”</p><p>Jeremy looks up, brow wrinkled. “Actually?”</p><p>“...No.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yes I'm an total romantic. Don't @ me.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Want to?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jeremy is horny, Michael has waited too damn long to take it slow, and teenage boys will be gay.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Note rating change, this one gets a bit... y'know. It's mostly glossed over, but if you don't want to read mature content, that's fine! You can still keep reading, just proceed through this chapter with caution and SKIP the next one, then you'll be fine.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Jeremy</strong>
</p><p>    “First day at school as a couple!” Michael shakes his hands in a rather overdone jazz-hands. “How do you wanna play this, baby?”</p><p>    Jeremy splutters and takes a couple breaths. “We can be kind of subtle, you know, low key, and tell them at lunch?”</p><p>
  <strong>~~~</strong>
</p><p>“So dudes.”</p><p>“We’re a couple!”</p><p>“We know,” the whole table says.</p><p>Michael laughs his warm, delighted laugh and Jeremy’s heart skips a beat. “Really? What gave it away?”</p><p>“Well, you guys are glowing,” Jenna starts knowingly, “And you keep giving each other these sickeningly sappy looks.”</p><p>“And you’re holding hands under the table, don’t think we didn’t notice,” Christine chimes in.</p><p>“You were also holding hands during passing period,” Jake mentions with a triumphant look, “And Michael called Jeremy <em>babe</em> during class.”</p><p>Michael rolls his eyes, grinning. “Okay, okay, that could’ve been platonic, right?”</p><p>Jeremy snorts, looking at his boyfriend (boyfriend!) incredulously. “Yeah guys,” he agrees seriously, “don’t make assumptions.”</p><p>“You also made out in the hallway,” Rich points out, “That might have given it away.”</p><p>“Uh.” Jeremy considers, leaning his head on Michael’s shoulder. “Yeah, there’s that.”</p><p>
  <strong>Michael</strong>
</p><p>“Mountain dew red?” </p><p>“Yup.”</p><p>“Uh, you want cheez-its?”</p><p>“Sure.” </p><p>“Basement?”</p><p>“Right, uh, yeah.”</p><p>This is awkward. They’re truly alone now, for the first time since Julio set them up, and Michael doesn’t know how slow Jeremy wants to take it.</p><p>Michael… Michael wants to take it as not-slow as physically possible, and it’s becoming more and more difficult not to pin Jeremy… anywhere and kiss him until the world ends.</p><p>It’s quite a problem.</p><p>When Michael joins Jeremy in the basement, he can’t help noticing the way Jeremy’s bottom lip is caught between Jeremy’s teeth, or the way Jeremy’s hair needs to be mussed, or how Jeremy is staring at Michael. Jeremy catches Michael’s eye and blushes-</p><p>“That’s it.” Michael can’t take it anymore.</p><p>He crosses the room and Jeremy moves to meet him, and finally, <em>finally</em>, their lips meet again- Michael’s hands bury themselves in Jeremy’s hair and he gasps a little as Jeremy’s hands slide down to his hips and pull him closer and Jeremy’s tongue slips in through Michael’s lips.</p><p>Michael hurries to respond, tipping his head to the side and deepening the kiss, sliding his own tongue to explore Jeremy’s mouth. It takes them a couple of kisses to get the rhythm right, but once they do, it’s magical. It’s revolutionary. He wants to be kissing Jeremy even as he’s kissing Jeremy, he wants, he wants, and he gets it.</p><p>
  <strong>~~~</strong>
</p><p>“Okay.” Friday, and the awkwardness that was first there when they got home that first day has disappeared.</p><p>Michael chucks his backpack in the cluttered corner of his living room, and Jeremy throws his after, the two landing next to each other.</p><p>“Alrighty.” Michael can already feel the anticipation tingling in the small of his back and sending sparks up his spine as he places one hand firmly on Jeremy’s chest and pushes him down and backward onto the sofa. Jeremy lands clumsily, feet in the air as Michael gestures at Jeremy’s shoes. “No shoes in an Asain household, you know that.”</p><p>“Hurry up.” Jeremy’s breathless voice doesn’t help Michael calm down <em>at all</em>, and Michael’s shoes end up on the rug instead of in the shoe bin his moms are always insisting he uses.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” Michael agrees, equally breathless. He clambers up so he’s straddling Jeremy- he leans down, Jeremy comes up, and they kiss like there’s no tomorrow.</p><p>Jeremy’s mouth falls open easily, moaning into Michael’s mouth as Michael’s hips move at their own accord.</p><p>The kiss is tactless and reckless, pulling apart for desperate gasps of air and diving right back in, and when Michael pulls away to shift the angle of their hips, Jeremy chases Michael’s mouth, Michael’s lips between Jeremy’s teeth.</p><p>
  <strong>Jeremy</strong>
</p><p>It’s kind of crazy to imagine there’s anything better to do than this- sitting, Michael in his lap, making out with abandon and rutting against Micahel through his jeans.</p><p>If sex didn’t exist, he might not believe anything could be as good as this, but as it is, he’s not complaining. He can already feel the tightening in his gut, the coil that becomes more and more intense.</p><p>He breaks the kiss, panting against Michael’s lips, fully focused on the way he meets Michael’s hips-</p><p>And then Micha’s fingers curl around his hip, holding him in place, and Michael’s brown eyes look up at him, wide and questioning.</p><p>Jeremy nods frantically, speechless. Is he really going to… is he really offering…?</p><p>“God, Jere-”</p><p>Michael fumbles with Jeremy’s pants and slides off the couch onto his knees. Jeremy can’t stop making small gasping sounds as Michael demonstrates that kissing isn’t the only thing his tongue can do. </p><p>And when Michael’s done, Jeremy’s more than willing to return the favor.</p><p>
  <strong>Michael</strong>
</p><p>“Did you know Rich and Jake went out for a week before they did- before they, you know…” Jeremy asks out of the blue.</p><p>They’re sitting on their respective beanbag chairs and he’s just died again, though they did make it farther than usual on this level, faster than usual. Michael’s moms decided Jeremy could stay the night, since the next day was a Saturday and they’d been obnoxiously fixed on the newest level they’d just unlocked.</p><p>“Damn, that’s fast.” <em>Does Jeremy want to…</em></p><p>Michael glances at Jeremy out of the corner of his eye: Jeremy is focusing very hard on picking lint from his non-linty jeans.</p><p>The jeans have… <em>Jeremy</em> has a <em>very</em> clear boner.</p><p>“Yeah, well, I was um. Thinking. About us and how we’ve been going out for, like, almost six weeks.” Jeremy doesn’t look up, not that Michael expects him to. (Or wants him to, seeing as he can’t stop staring at Jeremy’s lap.) “And we’ve known each other for almost our whole lives. And I think I’ve been into you for a really long time. And also I kind of… I really want to. Mostly that.”</p><p>“Yeah?” It’s kind of obvious- Jeremy isn’t subtle and Michael’s known him- like he said- for ages, but he wasn’t sure if Jeremy was ready or if he was just being horny… “Question-” Jeremy looks up at him. “Is this you or the teenage hormones?”</p><p>“Both, probably.” Michael snorts, wondering what percentage and desperately trying to ignore his mind’s interpretation of Jeremy wanting to. It’s an open secret between them that Jeremy gets himself off often. Sometimes before school.</p><p>“I was thinking you probably know how to <em>do it</em> because you’ve known for forever and I- whenever you’re ready, I have, like, condoms. In my pockets. And in my backpack. And lube. Like, we can wait however long or whatever but- I just- I know it’s a big step and all but I kind of really love you and I looked up protection and stuff so I’m set… Are you going to say something or…?”</p><p>Michael snaps his jaw shut, his head spinning and his entire body strung tight with want. Fondness blooms in his chest. “No, feel free to continue.”</p><p>“Michael-” Jeremy whines, and Michael’s resolve snaps.</p><p>“Yeah, okay, less talking, more doing. Bedroom, baby, let’s go.” Michael springs to his feet as he says the words, already casting aside his forgotten remote control and slipping his headphones off from around his neck. </p><p>“I- you’re serious? For real?” Jeremy’s eyes pop, the expression Michael knows well as <em>it’s too good to be true.</em></p><p>Michael pauses at the top of the stairs, grinning with absolutely zero restraint. “If you’re ready.”</p><p>
  <strong>Jeremy</strong>
</p><p>He’s so ready. He’s so incredibly ready. He’s wanted this for all of the time they’ve been dating- literally every single minute. It’s been kind of an obsession.</p><p>He melts when Michael calls him things other than <em>bro</em> and <em>fam</em> and <em>dude</em> and <em>Jeremy</em>, such as <em>Jere</em>, or <em>Jeremy, love of my life</em> (that was once, when Jeremy got him ice cream) or <em>baby</em> or <em>boo</em> or <em>bae</em> or any of the other ridiculous things that only Michael would say.</p><p>He nearly swooned when Michael kissed him that first time in public, which they did a lot. He loved making out shamelessly after school- four weeks straight. (Not that they would ever let it interfere with their AOTD.) They’ve always been each other’s social lives, it isn’t like it’s unusual for them to spend afternoons together.</p><p>And he is so, <em>so</em> ready for more.</p><p>Yeah, sure he’s horny, but he’s also in love. Crazy in love.</p><p>In love enough to look at Michael’s pictures on his phone- and completely fail his Spanish quiz- because there’s really not much else he’d rather be doing, grades be damned.</p><p>In love enough to ask his <em>dad</em> of all people about responsible sex, to consult health clinic sites about safe sex, to look up preparation, and how you’re supposed to deal with the condom after (because no one actually pays attention during health class, come on).</p><p>“Yeah,” he breathes, “yeah, yes yes <em>yes</em> I’m ready.” He bounds up the stairs two by two, nerves eating at his stomach and excitement rippling through his body like flint striking steel.</p><p>“After you,” Michael murmurs, opening the door to his bedroom. And in they go.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yeah, I know, I'm bad at writing the progression of relationships, I'm working on it. All constructive criticism welcome.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. First Time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>What the chapter title says, but strong warning for writer who isn't good at writing sex.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Jeremy</strong>
</p><p>Michael’s tugging on the hem of Jeremy’s shirt before they even close the door behind them. It’s hard for them to figure out how to get them <em>off</em> until finally Jeremy yanks his own shirt off and Michael follows suit.</p><p>Unlike Jeremy, Michael’s not all skin and bones, and Jeremy scrabbles at Michael’s clothes to catch more of the solid warmth beneath them- first his pants and then his underwear hits the floor, and them Michael kisses Jeremy onto his back, where he closes his eyes and feels Michael pulling the same articles of clothing off of him, losing himself in the feel of Michael’s fingertips tracing his skin and Michael’s lips pressing to his own before- <em>oh</em>- wrapping around his cock. He doesn’t even have time to be nervous, because Michael’s got a hand comfortingly clasped in Jeremy’s own.</p><p>Jeremy gasps and bucks into the warm sensation, moaning as Michael’s tongue swirls around his hard dick, and the need builds and the pressure tingles at every inch of Jeremy’s skin. He squeezes Michael’s hand tight, and Michael pauses, squeezing back.</p><p>“Please, I- stop or I’ll- Micha-” </p><p>Michael pulls off with a soft, wet sounding <em>pop</em>, and Jeremy has to stop himself from coming anyway when Michael’s face comes into view- hair a mess because Jeremy had clutched at it, lips swollen and red, pupils blown.</p><p>Yanking his boyfriend down into a brutal kiss, Jeremy rolls then over and shimmies down. “Let me do you,” he pleads, mouth nearly there, and when Michael gasps a <em>yes</em>, he does, taking the hard Michael into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the tip. His heart is pounding a mile a minute, but he feels strangely secure with Michael’s hands in his hair.</p><p>He watches Michael unravel, his heart swelling as he bobs his head and Michael’s eyes flutter shut, those delectable lips falling open in soft, pleading noises.</p><p>“Ah- yes, <em>ah</em>, more, <em>more-</em> okay, okay!”</p><p>Jeremy pulls away as Michael sits up and stills Jeremy’s head, panting. “You ready?” His heart races in his chest, and he watches Michael lick his lips and catch his breath. The need building in his dick is becoming unbearable. Michael gives him the fondest, most caring look, and Jeremy whimpers, kissing this wonderful, caring, <em>angel</em> of a human in geek form, warmth erupting in his chest.</p><p>“Born ready,” Michael pants, still somehow able to keep his wild smile, and Jeremy groans.</p><p>“No, Michael.”</p><p>But he grins, lies on his back and, with a steady breath, spreads his legs, nearly trembling with need.</p><p>
  <strong>Michael</strong>
</p><p>Michael takes a second- just a second- to stop and look at Jeremy, who’s spread for him on the bed, his cheeks red and his chest flushed, cock springing proudly between his legs, and there, back between his thighs… </p><p>He can’t believe any of this, but if there’s one thing Jeremy’s made a point of recently, it’s reminding Michael that he loves him. Again and again, he demonstrates that <em>no, </em>Michael is not just imagining this. Again and again Jeremy looks at him the way he his now- something inexplicably warm in his eyes, love in the quirk of his smile.</p><p>“Jeremy- God, Jeremy. I love you.” Michael means it, every word, from the bottom of his heart, to his beautiful boy who’s offering himself to Michael- <em>Michael!</em></p><p>Jeremy makes a choking noise and spreads his legs further apart, feet planted on the bed with his knees in the air. “I love you too.”</p><p>“Okay,” Michael whispers- he’s so ready, but this tiny bit is still scared he’ll mess it up.</p><p>But Jeremy loves him. </p><p>Jeremy trusts him. </p><p>He’s not doing this himself, they’re doing this together, and this is both their first times. It’s not like Jeremy’s going to break up with him if he fucks this up, he’ll just tease him to the ends of the earth and then they’ll try again.</p><p>The lube slides cool and slick over his fingers, and then Michael gently slides his fingers from the shadow of Jeremy’s balls to circle to puckered, furled whole behind them, seeing it twitch under his careful fingertip.</p><p>“Okay,” he whispers again, and gently, he slides the first finger in, watching Jeremy’s face for any sign that he should stop.</p><p>There isn’t any though; Jeremy breathes a soft <em>oh </em>that tugs at Michael’s heart. So Michael pushes the finger in, out, in, out, and when he pushes it in again, he adds a second finger, watching in interest as the hole stretches to accommodate the new intrusion.</p><p>When Michael adds a third finger, Jeremy hisses, and Michael freezes instantly, pulling his gaze from Jeremy’s hole to Jeremy’s face. After a beat, Jeremy relaxes and Michael begins sliding his fingers in earnest, feeling the way Jeremy pulls him in and listening to Jeremy gasp and watching Jeremy lift his hips. <em>Jeremy, Jeremy, Jeremy.</em></p><p>When Michael’s fingers can slide easily, he whispers one more quiet, “Okay,” and pulls them out, sliding a condom on after a minute of fumbling.</p><p>“Micha,” Jeremy whimpers impatiently, shifting his hips.</p><p>“Hold still-” Slowly, slowly, Michael pushes in, gasping as the hot, tight heat envelopes his dick and panting when he finally bottoms out. “Relax,” he advises, running a hand soothingly up and down Jeremy’s pale, trembling thigh- it’s a wonderful thigh- and he feels Jeremy do so. He leans over and kisses Jeremy tenderly.</p><p>“Move,” Jeremy whines needily, and Michael, who was trembling with the need to, complies immediately, thrusting in and out with one hand holding Jeremy’s pinned above Jeremy’s head on the bed and the other on Jeremy’s hip.</p><p>Jeremy meets each of Michael’s thrusts with his own, and the tight friction gives light to a whole new level of ecstasy as the air sounds with Michael’s moans and gasps, Jeremy’s whimpers, and the sound of skin on skin as Jeremy bucks his hips up and Michael snaps his hips down.</p><p>Michael can’t keep his gaze away from Jeremy’s blissed expression, and every one of Jeremy’s sounds spurs him on. There’s something unexplainably wonderful about knowing he’s the one who put that expression there. He’s the one who’s made Jeremy feel this good. He’s the one Jeremy wants to help him feel this good.</p><p>Still, he pauses a moment, panting against Jeremy’s chest, adjusting his angle.</p><p>“Michael- please-” Jeremy pleads, bucking his hips as Micahel holds him down, shifting inside of Jeremy.</p><p>“Shhh,” Michael shushes him, sucking on a nipple placatingly and smiling against the stiff nub as Jeremy squirms.</p><p>“Fuck, Micha, move, please, fuck, I need you to move-”</p><p>So Michael does, and he knows he’s hit the spot when Jeremy cries out loudly, arching up off the bed, his mouth open and his eyes shut, his head thrown back into his pillows.</p><p>In response, Michael feels Jeremy clenchy tightly around him and he curses in broken moans as Jeremy does it again and again until Michael sees stars.</p><p>When they come together, Michael can do nothing but collapse bonelessly on top of Jeremy, sighing in exhaustion and complete satisfaction.</p><p>Jeremy doesn’t seem to mind, laughing, weak and breathy, as Michael buries his face in the crook of Jeremy’s sweaty neck.</p><p>“Fuck.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“I love you,” Michael says, and Jeremy pulls Michael in closer.</p><p>“I love you too.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry for that horrendous mess, but if it makes it any better, I'll be right back to my teen+ writing next chapter. Which will be the last chapter... I'll miss this.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Boyf-riends</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Epilogue of sorts, in which there is fluff.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Last chapter. Here we go!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong></strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <strong>Jeremy</strong>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>“You know…” Rich remarks slowly as the six of them munch on a couple of half-full baskets of graduation-celebratory fries, “Your SQUIP might have had an alternative motive for blocking your Player One.” He jabs at the air with a French fry as he speaks, and Jake bites the end off of it.</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>“Yeah?” Michael asks, sliding closer to Jeremy. Jeremy lays his head against Michael’s own, squeezing Michael’s hand where they’re linked, above the table this time.</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>His heart warms as Michael leans into him, one arm circling his waist and pulling him closer. He loves everything with Michael, but his favorite thing might just be the way he can be affectionate wherever and whenever he wants. They just hug. And kiss. And cuddle. And are generally cheesy with no remorse.</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>Jake nods seriously, the sober expression thwarted by the way his hand chases comically after the rest of the fry, and his finger ends up in Rich’s mouth. “You liked him.”</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>“Well, obviously.” Jeremy rolls his eyes and Michael smiles at him softly. Jeremy has to slow his breathing as Michael kisses his neck. It’s chaste, just a peck, really, but it’s <em>Michael.</em></p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>“Yeah, like, my SQUIP blocked Jake-” Rich swallows and Jake’s expression wavers for a minute, and Jeremy feels a twisting pang of leftover guilt that that’s what he’d done to Michael- “Because I wanted to like girls- only girls-”</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>Christine and Jenna break apart for air. “I only like girls,” Jenna says helpfully.</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>“We know,” everyone else says- Jeremy exasperated, Michael laughing, Rich impatiently, and Jake looking flatly amused.</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>“You’ve made it pretty obvious,” Christine adds, and the two return to their kissing.</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>Jeremy’s happy for them, very much, and also ridiculously relieved that everything worked out without anyone’s heart ending up broken.</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>“Anyway, Jake got in the way of my goal, because he’s just so hot, you know? Like so fucking irresistible, the only way-” Jake steals the fry from Rich’s hand- “Jake!” and Rich grabs another- “So the SQUIP probably knew that you like-”</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>“Love,” Michael and Jeremy say together, and Jeremy beams, wishing he could keep a snapshot of this moment and live in it forever. The evening light, the warm glow of contentment that settles firm and gentle in his stomach as Michael scoots into his lap. </p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>“And that’s kind of a huge problem for someone trying to get you with that funky little lesbian, so it got you to block him.”</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>“Oh,” Michael whispers against Jeremy’s forehead, “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>Sometimes, like now, Jeremy can feel Michael curl into himself just a little, as if he’s not really sure Jeremy does love him.</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>Jeremy really, <em>really</em> does love him.</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>“Sounds about right,” Jeremy smiles, nuzzling Michael’s cheek and kissing him, “You’re pretty irresistible.”</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Michael</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>Awww. Jeremy is literally the sweetest boyfriend, though Michael’s definitely the cheesier one.</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>“C’mere.” Michael pulls Jeremy in, cupping his face and kissing him, not caring that there are other people around.</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>“God, get a room,” Jenna laughs as the two start making out in earnest.</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>Michael tugs on Jeremy’s soft hair, getting him to tilt his head. “We have a room,” he mumbles, and goes back to kissing. </p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>“We have two,” Jeremy corrects, one hand sliding up Michael’s back. “Michael, turn around before you snap your neck.”</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>“You two need to learn self-control,” Christine notes lightly, sliding off Jenna’s lap.</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>“You’re one to talk,” Michael snickers, looking between Jenna and Christine.</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>“It was only a couple minutes!” Christine protests, cheeks coloring.</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>“Give or take fifteen more,” Jake adds.</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>“Hey,” he hears Jeremy whisper in his ear as he clambers onto Jeremy’s lap so they’re facing each other this time. It sends a shiver down his spine. “Do I ever tell you how sorry I am? For blocking you?”</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>“Every day, Jere.” Michael’s body warms anyway, and he presses a kiss to the spot where Jeremy’s Adam’s apple bobs in his smooth throat when he swallows.</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>Jeremy breathes out in small puffs as Michael makes his way down the pale skin at his neck, ruffling Michael’s hair and making Michael wish desperately they aren’t on a triple date to celebrate graduation.</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>“Do I ever tell you how much I love you?”</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>“Every day, Micha.” Jeremy presses soft kisses to the pac-man on Michael’s wrist, and Micheal sighs, pulling Jeremy close and letting his beautiful, awkward, heart-stoppingly cute boyfriend hold him.</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>“Look at them,” he hears Rich say behind him from across the table.</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>“What about them?”</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>“Well I was right, wasn’t I?”</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>“Rich. Baby. You’re always right.”</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>“But what were you right about?”</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>“Their <em>backpacks,</em> Jake, that was me.”</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>“Their backpacks?”</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>“Boyfriends,” Michael mumbles into Jeremy’s neck, feeling Jeremy’s arms tighten around him as he nuzzles Jeremy. He’s drifting off to sleep.</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>“Should we keep that, do you think?” Jeremy asks thoughtfully, “Like, to be legendary idiots? Like, if we get married, our rings could be like, husb-ands? Partn-ers?”</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Holy motherfucking shit.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>Michael is wide, <em>wide</em> awake. “Married?” he squeaks an octave higher than normal. Wow. Wowowowow. He has no words. He can feel the fizzing, bubbling, popping happiness filling him head to toe. How he was nearly asleep a minute before, he has no idea.</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>“I- Shit- I mean, I didn’t mean to say that- I- not that I don’t want to. I- I didn’t mean to… I want to marry you. Someday. I would like to Hypothetically. If you want to. Do you think you would want to-?”</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p><p>“Jeremy.” Michael kisses him. “Player two. <em>Yes.</em>”</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This has been amazing, and reading all your comments have really kept me writing, and squealing like a little girl behind my computer. Thank you all so much for reading!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading!! Thank you to everyone who comments!!  Say hi on tumblr @<a href="https://musicals-ship-that-gay.tumblr.com/">Musicals-ship-that-gay</a> or on my main <a href="https://tigerlilycorinne.tumblr.com/">@tigerlilycorinne</a><br/>&lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>